05 


I 


<  >> 

£  5 

3  S 

I  S 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 

BY 

STUART  WALKER 


Edited,  and  with  an  Introduction  by 

EDWARD  HALE  BIERSTADT 


ILLUSTRATED 


Second  Edition,  Revised 


CINCINNATI 
STEWART  fe?  KIDD  COMPANY 

1917 


p 


COPYRIGHT,  1917,  BY 

STEWART   &    KIDD  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved 

COPYRIGHT  IN  ENGLAND 


All  dramatic  rights 
reserved  by  Stuart  Walker 

First  Edition  May,  1917 
Second  Edition  September,  1917 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION iii 

PROLOGUE  TO  THE  THEATER 3 

THE  TRIMPLET 5 

NEVERTHELESS 41 

THE  MEDICINE  SHOW 69 

THE  Six  WHO  PASS  WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL  .  85 

APPENDIX 133 


3G796S 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


THE  PORTMANTEAU  THEATER       .      .     (Frontispiece) 

FACING 
PAGE 

THE  TRIM P LET 

Caratina  and  her  mother,  Bobolara  .      .      .      .      13 

NEVERTHELESS 

The  Girl  and  Boy  Encounter  a  Strange  Word  .     53 

THE  MEDICINE-SHOW 

The  Doctor  swaps  a  chew   of  tobacco   for  a 
pill  from  Giz 79 

Six  WHO  PASS  WHILE  TH&  LENTILS  BOIL 

The  Boy  and  the  Ballad  Singer 118 

Six  WHO  PASS  WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

The  Queen,  the  defeated  Headman,  and  the  Boy  129 

TAILPIECE 

The  Portmanteau  Theater  Boxed  to  Leave  .      .131 


INTRODUCTION 


INTRODUCTION 


THE  MAN 

Especially  during  the  last  two  decades  in  Amer 
ica  various  movements  have  been  generated  for 
the  establishment  of  a  more  or  less  permanent 
repertory  theater.  In  most  cases  these  move 
ments  have  proved  abortive ;  indeed,  they  have  al 
ways  proved  abortive  whenever  actual  permanency 
was  implied.  The  failure  of  the  New  Theater, 
now  the  Century  Theater,  in  New  York,  marks 
the  highest  point  in  a  long  series  of  failures. 
Next  in  line  for  consideration  comes  Stuart  Walk 
er's  Portmanteau  Theater.  So  far  it  has  been 
entirely  successful,  and  at  the  present  moment 
there  is  no  reason  for  prophesying  anything  but 
unqualified  triumph  for  the  venture.  But  in  any 
case,  whatever  time  may  do  to  controvert  the  pres 
ent  situation,  the  Portmanteau  Theater  has  taught 
us  not  one,  but  many  lessons,  and  it  seems  entirely 
fitting  that  an  effort  should  now  be  made  to  sum 
up  in  detail  the  history  of  the  theater,  in  order 
that  a  proper  basis  for  future  deduction  may  be 
furnished.  To  do  this  effectively  it  will  be  well 
to  begin  with  the  presiding  genius  of  the  Portman 
teau,  Stuart  Walker  himself. 

Stuart  Walker  was  born  in  Augusta,  Kentucky, 
in  the  oldest  house  in  that  part  of  the  State.  The 
exact  date  of  his  birth  is  problematical,  as  Mr. 
Walker  has  so  far  persisted  in  maintaining  a  strict 

iii 


INTRODUCTION 


secrecy  on  the  point.  Whether  he  thinks  that  he 
is  too  old  or  too  young,  I  do  not  know;  very 
evidently  he  believes  there  is  a  "  too  "  somewhere 
in  that  connection.  It  seems  to  me  a  safe  con 
jecture,  however,  that  he  is  about  thirty-three 
years  old.  His  father  was  a  lumberman,  and 
with  this  exception  all  Mr.  Walker's  forbears 
on  both  sides  of  the  house  were  either  lawyers 
or  preachers.  There  is  not  a  trace  of  the  artis 
tic,  much  less  theatric,  talent  discernible  in  his 
geneology,  and  this  is  surely  worthy  of  note  con 
sidering  his  later  career.  The  Walker  family 
originates  in  North  Carolina,  not  Kentucky,  one 
of  the  chief  reasons  for  the  emigration  being  that 
one  of  Stuart  Walker's  ancestors  had  a  family 
of  twenty-two  children.  Naturally  North  Caro 
lina  felt  the  strain  of  so  large  a  body  of  Walkers, 
and  Stuart's  forbear  moved  south  near  the  blue 
grass  country. 

Mr.  Walker's  early  childhood  was  uneventful. 
He  was  a  strongly  imaginative  youngster.  The 
chief  point  of  interest  during  this  period  came  as 
a  more  or  less  direct  result  of  an  attack  of 
measles.  It  was  at  this  time  that  his  father  gave 
him  a  toy  theater  in  the  endeavor  to  keep  the 
boy  indoors  and  quiet  during  his  convalescence. 
He  was  just  six  years  old.  The  theater  was  of 
German  manufacture,  and  it  had  a  green  baize 
curtain,  two  sets  of  scenery,  and  real,  though  min 
iature,  traps.  There  came  with  it  also  a  play 
to  be  performed,  but  the  play  was  written  in 
German,  and  there  was  no  one  at  hand  who  could 
translate  German  readily.  So  it  was  that  Stuart's 
father  made  him  an  adaptation,  a  very  free  adap- 

iv 


INTRODUCTION 


tation,  of  the  "  Bohemian  Girl."  This  version 
was  especially  notable  because  it  had  two  morals : 
the  reward  of  virtue,  and  the  condemnation  of 
vice.  Thus  every  one  was  satisfied.  For  six 
years  the  small  boy  gave  regular  performances 
of  his  one  piece  in  the  little  theater,  and  then  the 
audience  rose  in  a  body  and  demanded  a  change 
of  bill.  Here  was  a  problem  indeed  for  the 
Manager!  Stuart  rose  to  the  occasion.  He 
repainted  the  theater,  changed  the  name  of  the 
play  —  and  gave  it  over  again.  There  was 
almost  a  riot.  The  question  now  was  how  to 
hold  his  audience,  and  the  answer  could  be  only 
one  —  repertory.  The  "  star  system  "  fortu 
nately  could  not  apply  in  this  instance.  And  so 
Stuart  wrote  a  play  a  week  thereafter,  and  gave 
it  on  Monday  afternoon  just  as  he  is  doing  today. 
The  influence  of  this  toy  theater  on  Mr.  Walker's 
future  work  can  hardly  be  over  emphasized.  It 
taught  him  how  to  hold  an  audience,  it  suggested 
the  importance  of  the  repertory  idea,  and  from 
a  standpoint  of  stage  mechanics  it  gave  him  ma 
terial  which  he  is  using  today.  That  will  be 
taken  up  in  detail  a  little  further  on.  The  plays 
he  wrote  for  his  fellows  were  designed  to  please 
—  they  had  to  please,  and  the  experience  gained 
through  their  manufacture  and  presentation  has 
been  an  ever-present  help  up  to  now. 

In  1890  the  Walker  family  moved  to  Cincin 
nati.  Here  Stuart  entered  the  elementary  school, 
going  from  there  to  the  High  School,  and  to  the 
University  of  Cincinnati,  where  he  graduated  in 
due  course.  While  he  was  an  undergraduate  at 
the  University  he  became  one  of  the  founders  of 

v 


INTRODUCTION 


the  Comedy  Club,  and  this  served  to  intensify  his 
interests  along  the  lines  of  the  theater.  It  was  at 
this  time,  too,  that  he  came  under  the  influence  of 
Prof.  George  Miller  of  the  English  Department. 
It  was  through  Professor  Miller  that  Walker  be 
came  first  interested  and  then  fascinated  by  the 
old  English  and  Scottish  ballads.  Their  dramatic 
power,  their  skill  of  narration,  and  their  ability  to 
make  the  auditor  actually  see  and  feel  the  events 
they  recounted,  made  a  deep  and  lasting  impres 
sion.  It  was  an  early  and  primitive  form  of  the 
dramatic  art,  this  minstrelsy,  and  it  suggested  the 
fundamental  principles  of  that  art  as  perhaps  little 
else  could  have  done. 

After  his  graduation  from  the  University  Mr. 
Walker  was  an  invalid  for  several  years.  He 
had  nothing  to  do  but  to  think,  and  this  forma 
tive  period  permitted  the  crystallization  of  ideas 
which  had  been  germinating  since  boyhood. 
When  he  was  strong  enough,  in  an  effort  to  re 
cover  his  lost  health,  Mr.  Walker  went  back 
south  and  worked  some  months  in  a  great  lumber 
camp.  Here  he  came  into  contact  with  the  South 
ern  negro,  and  through  him  found  again  the  bal 
lad  of  his  university  days.  At  night,  by  the  camp- 
fire,  the  darkies  would  chant  their  songs,  each 
one  taking  up  the  theme  in  turn  and  acting  out 
the  story.  Sometimes  these  assumed  almost  the 
proportion  of  impromptu  plays  —  the  Commedia 
dell*  Arte  over  again!  Mr.  Walker  listened, 
and  learned.  He  has  always  been  peculiar  in 
his  ability  to  reduce  anything  to  its  common  de 
nominator,  and  to  put  it  into  practical  applica 
tion.  After  his  lumbering  experience  Mr. 

vi 


INTRODUCTION 


Walker  headed  straight  north  to  New  York,  and 
entered  at  the  American  Academy  of  Dramatic 
Arts.  Now  was  the  time  for  dreams  to  be 
realized. 

After  graduating  from  the  Academy  Mr. 
Walker  played  a  summer  in  pantomime  with 
Madame  Alberti,  and  the  following  Autumn  he 
applied  for  work  at  the  Belasco  offices.  There 
he  was  taken  on  at  once  —  at  $12.50  a  week  — 
and  William  J.  Dean,  the  general  director  for 
Mr.  Belasco,  told  him  he  would  have  five  lines 
to  speak  in  a  forthcoming  production.  The 
young  Thespian  banished  thoughts  of  Hamlet 
—  oh,  yes,  he  had  remembered  that  Booth  was 
a  Southerner  —  and  took  the  part.  The  five 
lines  were  in  "  Is  Matrimony  a  Failure?"  and 
on  the  first  night  Walker  was  made  assistant 
stage  manager.  After  two  weeks  he  was  made 
stage  manager  of  "  The  Lily  "  at  $20  a  week, 
and  then  on  he  went.  He  understudied  all  the 
important  male  parts  in  "  The  Lily "  and  in 
time  played  most  of  them,  one  night  taking  the 
place  of  Leo  Ditrichstein  who  was  ill.  The  next 
Autumn  he  went  back  to  "  Is  Matrimony  a  Fail 
ure?"  and  played  the  part  of  the  old  man, 
but  after  two  weeks  he  accepted  the  position  of 
play-reader  for  Belasco.  Next  he  was  made 
stage  manager  of  "  The  Concert,"  and  manager 
of  the  Belasco  Play  Bureau.  Again  Mr.  Walker 
took  a  step  up,  being  made  general  stage  man 
ager;  and  all  the  time  he  was  acting  in  what 
ever  production  of  Mr.  Belasco's  he  was  needed. 
Shortly  after  this  last  move  Mr.  Dean  became 
ill,  and  Mr.  Walker  took  over  his  work  contin- 

vii 


INTRODUCTION 


uing  with  it  as  general  director  for  Belasco  dur 
ing  the  next  year  when  he  resigned  to  play  for 
a  summer  in  stock  with  Jessie  Bonstelle.  The 
following  Autumn  the  Portmanteau  Theater  came 
into  being.  This  was  in  1914  after  Mr.  Walker 
had  been  with  Belasco  for  six  years.  During 
all  this  time  there  were  people  who,  to  use  Mr. 
Walker's  own  phrase,  were  "  kind  to  me,  and 
told  me  things."  Among  these  were  first  of  all 
William  J.  Dean  whose  friendly  interest  never 
lessened,  then  W.  J.  Ferguson,  James  Bradbury, 
Jane  Cowl,  and  others  in  the  cast  of  "  Is  Matri 
mony  a  Failure?";  in  "The  Lily,"  Nance 
O'Neil,  and  Julia  Dean,  with  Leo  Ditrichstein, 
William  Morris,  Bruce  McRae,  and  Charles 
Cartwright.  But  Mr.  Dean  was  always  the 
greatest  friend  of  all. 

The  average  man  after  six  years  with  Belasco 
would  have  succumbed  to  the  Belascian  style  of 
production,  but  with  Mr.  Walker  it  taught  him 
largely  what  to  avoid.  He  had  his  own  stand 
ards  on  his  entrance  to  the  work,  and  he  adhered 
to  them  persistently,  discarding  whatever  failed 
to  meet  the  test.  Perhaps  the  most  vital  thing  he 
learned  was  how  to  train  and  handle  actors,  for 
in  this  Belasco  is  a  past-master.  Also  as  director, 
Mr.  Walker  came  in  close  touch  with  a  great  part 
of  the  "  profession,"  and  when  his  time  came  he 
was  able  to  draw  upon  his  accumulated  experience 
to  provide  himself  with  a  company.  He  saw  how 
the  younger  actors  and  actresses  were  passed  over, 
unless  by  some  chance  they  were  able  to  show  their 
talent,  and  he  resolved  that  when  his  own  day 
dawned  he  would  make  his  knowledge  react  to 

viii 


INTRODUCTION 


their  advantage  and  to  his  own.  This  made  pos 
sible  the  incident  that  took  place^just  after  the  first 
performance  of  the  Portmanteau  when  a  very 
well-known  New  York  manager  rushed  up  to  Mr. 
Walker  and  exclaimed,  "  Walker,  where  did  you 
get  that  cast?  I  never  heard  of  one  of  'em  be 
fore  —  but  they're  wonders !  "  Looking  at  him 
rather  sadly  Mr.  Walker  replied,  "  I  got  six  of 
them  out  of  your  companies." 

Chesterton  remarks  that  the  poet  is  the  only 
really  practical  man,  and  this  is  certainly  true  of 
Stuart  Walker.  He  has  to  a  remarkable  degree 
the  power  of  materializing  his  own  visions.  His 
practical  experience  with  the  stage  has  not  been 
wastecl;  he  has  dreamed,  and  he  has  made  his 
drWms  come  true.  Perhaps  this  is  in  part  be 
cause  of  his  great  faith  in  them,  but  the  concrete 
knowledge  necessary  to  achieve  their  embodiment 
is  there  too.  His  taste,  his  judgment,  are  inher 
ent,  but  the  ability  to  make  definite  use  of  them 
has  been  arduously  acquired. 

THE  THEATER 

It  was  in  the  Autumn  of  1914  that  the  idea 
for  the  Portmanteau  Theater  first  came  to  Mr. 
Walker.  He  himself  says  that  it  came  to  him 
while  he  was  taking  a  bath.  This  is  so  frivo 
lous  a  statement  that  it  is  undoubtedly  true. 
After  all,  stranger  things  have  happened.  Mr. 
Walker  says,  too,  that  the  idea  came  to  him  as 
a  complete  vision,  with  every  salient  feature  in 
its  place  just  as  it  is  now.  This  sounds  like  the 
poet  talking,  but  even  so  that  is  no  reason  for 
doubting.  At  least  he  believes  it.  As  a  matter 

ix 


INTRODUCTION 


of  fact,  like  most  visions,  the  idea  came  to  birth 
after  a  long  period  of  almost  unconcious  incu 
bation,  beginning  no  doubt  with  the  toy  theater 
of  childhood.  Certain  it  is  at  any  rate  that  when 
Mr.  Walker  first  came  to  New  York  he  wanted 
to  do  three  things  —  to  write,  to  act,  and  to  pro 
duce  plays,  and  it  is  equally  certain  that  all  these 
three  wishes  were  finally  realized  in  the  Port 
manteau  Theater. 

Shortly  after  the  idea  had  begun  to  take  shape 
in  Mr.  Walker's  mind  he  went  to  a  convention 
of  the  Drama  League  where  he  met  Mrs.  Coon- 
ley  Ward  with  whom  he  discussed  his  new-born 
project.  Mrs.  Ward  took  fire  at  once,  so  much 
so  in  fact  that  she  sent  Mr.  Walker  on  a  tour 
through  the  Middle  West  so  that  he  might  talk 
publicly  about  the  Portmanteau  and  gain  some 
idea  of  how  such  a  .theater  would  be  received. 
On  this  tour  Mr.  Walker  met  with  instant  re 
sponse.  He  felt  now  that  he  was  committed  to 
venture,  and  so  without  more  delay  he  returned 
to  New  York,  built  the  theater  and  organized  his 
company.  This  was  in  the  Spring  of  1915. 

According  to  Mr.  Walker  one  of  the  first  to 
catch  the  spirit  of  the  thing  was  William  J. 
Sheafe,  Jr.,  and  it  was  he  who  built  the  first  model 
for  the  theater.  The  first  scene  was  made  for 
"Six  Who  Pass  While  the  Lentils  Boil,"  and 
it  was  about  this  time  that  Frank  J.  Zimmerer  and 
Wilmot  Heitland  put  in  an  appearance.  Both 
of  these  men  did,  and  indeed  are  doing,  splendid 
work  for  the  Portmanteau.  It  was  Mr.  Zim 
merer  who  found  the  color  for  the  theater  itself, 
and  his  stage  settings  for  the  plays  of  Lord  Dun- 


INTRODUCTION 


sany,  as  well  as  those  for  the  plays  of  Mr.  Walker, 
have  since  set  New  York  by  the  ears.  In  every 
instance  Mr.  Walker  has  displayed  an  almost  un 
canny  knack  for  getting  just  the  right  people  to 
execute  his  ideas.  This  is  indeed  borne  out  in 
every  phase  of  the  work,  artistic  and  mechanical. 
And  again  in  almost  every  instance  the  people  he 
has  found  have  been  hitherto  quite  unknown  to 
the  general  public. 

The  proportions  of  the  theater  are  based,  ac 
cording  to  the  inventor's  own  statement,  on  the 
west  wall  of  the  apartment  Mr.  Walker  occupied 
at  that  time,  and  this  simply  means  that  the  pro 
portions  are,  to  a  certain  extent,  arbitrary.  Later 
they  were  worked  out  in  greater  detail  as  slight 
changes  became  necessary.  The  theater  as  it  was 
finally  built,  however,  was,  and  is,  strictly  accord 
ing  to  Mr.  Walker's  primary  conception. 

The  Portmanteau  Theater  is  in  direct  descent 
from  the  toy  theater  about  which  so  much  has 
already  been  said.  The  structural  outlines  of  the 
theater  are  largely  the  same,  the  same  three  color 
lighting  system  is  employed,  the  stand-lights  are 
used  in  exactly  the  same  manner,  and  the  im 
proved  reflectors  are  almost  replicas.  It  was  in 
the  toy  theater  that  Mr.  Walker  first  learned 
that  footlights  cast  unpleasant  shadows,  and  he 
discarded  them  then.  Later  he  relearned  that 
lesson  as  well  as  others  under  Belasco,  but  they 
had  first  come  to  him  years  before.  The  great 
est  point  of  interest  here,  however,  is  that  the 
lighting  system  for  the  Portmanteau  Theater  is 
unique.  Mr.  Walker  can  get  effects  with  it  that 
cannot  be  duplicated  in  any  theater  in  the  country. 

xi 


INTRODUCTION 


.Yet  this  lighting  system  which  has  been  hailed  as 
so  notable  an  achievement,  as  indeed  it  is,  is  based 
directly  upon  the  system  used  in  the  little  toy  the 
ater  with  the  green  baize  curtain. 

In  1915  Hiram  Kelly  Moderwell,  author  of 
"  The  Theater  of  Today  "  and  at  that  time  on 
the  staff  of  the  Boston  Evening  Transcript 
wrote  an  account  of  the  Portmanteau  Theater 
from  which  I  shall  quote  at  some  length,  for 
I  cannot  hope  to  better  Mr.  Moderwell's  nar 
rative. 

"  The  Portmanteau  Theater  is  a  complete 
theatrical  stage,  somewhat  smaller  than  usual, 
but  ample  for  any  play  that  does  not  make  a 
special  demand  for  '  bigness.'  It  can  be  set  up 
in  any  room  sixteen  and  a  half  feet  high,  twenty- 
five  feet  wide,  and  forty  feet  Iqng  (this  length 
allowing  for  an  audience  of  a  hundred  or  more). 
Its  walls  support  themselves  by  a  resourceful  sys 
tem  of  interlocking,  and  ground  bracing.  They 
can  be  *  struck,'  like  scenery,  by  a  few  men,  and 
boxed  in  an  hour  and  a  half.  When  boxed  for 
shipping,  the  theater,  with  switchboard  and  all 
paraphernelia,  weighs  some  3,000  pounds,  oc 
cupies  735  cubic  feet,  and  can  be  loaded  on  to  an 
ordinary  hauling  truck.  The  box  of  dimmers  is 
a  little  marvel.  It  is  forty-four  inches  long, 
thirty-two  inches  high,  twenty-three  inches  deep, 
and  weighs  350  pounds  boxed.  It  can  plug  in  on 
the  ordinary  no  direct  current  system,  which  fact 
enables  the  theater  to  dispense  with  clumsy  cal 
cium  devices.  Mr.  Walker  dispenses  altogether 
with  footlights,  not  from  necessity,  but  from 
choice.  His  lighting  is  obtained  from  movable 

xii 


INTRODUCTION 


spot  lamps,  and  transparencies  provide  all  needed 
coloring. 

"  The  stage  proper  is  sixteen  feet  high,  eight 
een  feet  deep,  and  twenty-two  feet  wide.  The 
gridiron,  from  which  scenery  is  hung,  is  a  remark 
able  contrivance,  light  and  flexible,  but  to  all  ap 
pearances  quite  free  from  all  danger  of  break 
ing.  A  cloth  cyclorama  is  hung  on  a  semi-circu 
lar  iron  shaft,  and  is  used  for  the  background  in 
out-of-door  scenes,  as  in  the  best  European  thea 
ters.  There  is  an  oblong  fore-stage  or  apron  in 
front  of  the  proscenium  and  between  two  side 
entrance  doorways,  and  here,  in  chummy  near 
ness  to  his  audience,  Mr.  Walker  has  large  por 
tions  of  his  plays  acted.  The  wings  are  ample 
for  the  storing  of  properties  between  scenes,  and 
for  the  sojourn  of  actors  awaiting  their  cues. 
Some  of  the  framework  of  the  stage  is  constructed 
of  the  actual  boxes  in  which  the  rest  is  stored  and 
shipped. 

"  Mr.  Walker  uses  this  stage  with  a  keen  sense 
of  the  beautiful.  If  he  chose  he  could  mount  an 
ordinary  realistic  play  in  the  realistic  manner  — 
the  equipment  will  lend  itself  to  that.  But  in 
the  performances  thus  far  given  the  producer  has 
set  himself  to  the  exposition  of  his  ideals  of 
stagecraft.  These  are  perhaps  summarized  in 
the  formula :  *  Imagination  instead  of  informa 
tion.'  But  Mr.  Walker's  personal  taste  narrows 
down  still  more  toward  the  delicate  and  fanciful. 
And  in  this  field  at  least,  the  Portmanteau  should 
be  able  to  equal  any  theater  in  America,  provided 
only  that  the  physical  demands  of  the  play  be  not 
exorbitant.  The  scenery  in  the  Portmanteau  is 

xiii 


INTRODUCTION 


of  the  simplest  description  —  back  drops,  ordi 
nary  sets,  and  a  few  properties.  It  is  the  light 
ing  (which  must  in  all  imaginative  work  be  a  full 
half  of  the  setting)  that  raises  these  prosaic  things 
into  the  domain  of  magic.  Mr.  Walker's  light 
ing  is  a  simple  affair  of  movable  spots,  nothing 
more.  (We  have  Mr.  Belasco  to  thank  for 
showing  us  the  marvels  of  the  spot-light.)  But 
by  his  extensive  understanding  of  color  in  light, 
and  especially^of  light  against  pigment,  he  pro 
duces  effects  of  great  beauty  and  distinction." 

There  are  several  points  in  Mr.  Moderwell's 
account  which  may  in  the  light  of  later  events 
be  clarified  to  advantage.  It  is  interesting  to  re 
mark  that  when  the  Portmanteau  was  set  up  in 
the  Century  Theater  of  New  York  Mr.  Walker 
discarded  the  famous  "  million  dollar  switch 
board  "  of  the  Century,  finding  that  he  could  get 
better  effects  with  his  own  switch-board,  and  little 
dimmer-box.  The  Century,  that  gigantic  mauso 
leum  of  incompetency,  is  a  monument  to  the  con 
ception  that  money  can  supply  anything  except 
brains.  It  should  be  noticed  too  that  the  fore- 
stage  of  the  Portmanteau  is  unlike  the  conventional 
apron  in  that  it  is  one  step  lower  than  the  main  or 
inner  stage.  When  Mr.  Moderwell  speaks  of  the 
scenery  as  being  "  of  the  simplest  description,"  he 
is  speaking  from  a  mechanical  rather  than  from  an 
artistic  standpoint.  Also  it  must  be  remembered 
that  his  account  was  written  in  the  very  early  days 
of  the  Portmanteau  before  Zimmerer's  gorgeous 
sets  for  the  Dunsany  plays,  or  for  "  The  Birthday 
of  the  Infanta." 

The  fore-stage,  and  the  inner  stage  of  the 
xiv 


INTRODUCTION 


Portmanteau  are  lighted  by  four  stand-lights  — 
two  for  each  stage.  These  stands  carry  one  lamp 
each  of  250  watts,  behind  which  is  an  exceed 
ingly  powerful  mirror  reflector.  The  two  lights 
for  the  fore-stage  are  placed  down  stage  right 
and  left,  and  are  masked  from  the  audience  by 
screens.  The  two  lights  for  the  inner  stage  are 
placed  just  inside  the  proscenium.  It  is  evident 
at  once  that  there  can  be  no  question  of  un 
pleasant  shadow  effects  with  this  ^method.  As 
Mr.  Moderwell  says,  movable  spots  are  used  also, 
but  this  is  true  only  on  occasion.  Mr.  Walker 
relies  on  reflections,  and  color  combinations  to 
bring  most  of  his  results.  Heretofore  to  obtain 
the  diffuse  light  necessary  for  a  full  stage,  bal 
cony  spots  have  been  used  (Granville  Barker  re 
lies  on  these  to  a  great  extent),  but  with  the 
single  lamp  used  in  combination  with  the  reflectors 
the  Portmanteau  manages  to  obtain  a  diffuse 
light  from  nearby,  a  thing  new  in  staging.  I 
have  called  these  lights  "  stand-lights "  because 
they  do  not  come  under  the  head  of  any  other 
lights  used  on  the  stage  prior  to  their  creation  by 
Mr.  Walker.  They  differ  from  the  bunch-light 
largely  in  that  only  one  bulb  is  used,  and  that  the 
reflector  is  an  unusually  powerful  one  con 
structed  by  Mr.  Walker  particularly  for  this  pur 
pose. 

Mr.  Walker's  general  theory  of  staging  is  very 
simple.  If  you  have  a  story  to  tell  —  tell  it. 
Do  not  bury  it  in  a  mass  of  detail  which  is  unes 
sential.  Go  for  the  broad  effects,  the  big  out 
lines;  the  rest  will  be  added  as  it  becomes  neces 
sary.  That  is  one  of  the  things  Belasco  did  not 

xv 


INTRODUCTION 


teach  the  producer.  You  must  remember  also 
that  the  audience  is  an  integral  part  of  the  whole. 
It  must  be  willing  to  enter  in  and  do  its  share. 
The  part  of  an  audience  which  will  do  this  is 
worth  working  for,  and  the  other  part  will  come 
anyhow  —  they  will  follow  the  rest. 

Simplicity  is  the  keynote,  and  the  knowledge 
when  it  will  be  more  effective  not  to  do  a  thing 
than  to  do  it.  "  Nevertheless  "  is  a  masterpiece 
of  omission,  and  it  has  been  remarked  that  the 
characters  of  Mother  and  Father  who  never  come 
on  the  stage  at  all  are  as  real  to  the  audience  as 
the  Boy  or  Girl.  It  is  in  connection  with  this 
play  that  some  misguided  people  have  tried  to 
trace  a  tendency  on  Mr.  Walker's  part  to  return 
to  the  Elizabethan  stage  as  the  Device  Bearer 
brings  out  the  table,  the  lamp,  and  the  chairs 
which  go  to  make  the  set  against  the  closed  cur 
tains  of  the  inner  stage.  It  is  simply  a  question 
of  practicability.  The  fore-stage  cannot  be  cur 
tained  off,  and  as  it  must  be  set  for  this  "  Inter 
lude  before  the  Curtains  "  it  is  simply  a  matter  of 
setting  it  in  the  most  artistic  way.  Better  the 
'Device  Bearer  than  the  Props  of  the  "  Yellow 
Jacket "  with  his  limp  cigarette. 

The  point  should  be  stressed  again  that  Mr. 
Walker  considers  the  audience  and  the  stage  as 
a  unit.  The  fore-stage  is  significant  of  this  atti 
tude  in  the  degree  of  intimacy  it  permits;  indeed 
it  may  be  considered  as  the  connecting  link  be 
tween  the  stage  proper  and  the  auditorium.  In 
some  of  Mr.  Walker's  plays  the  characters 
descend  into  the  audience  in  the  effort  to  weld 
the  real  and  the  make-believe  into  an  indivisible 

xvi 


INTRODUCTION 


whole.  Memory  as  she  walks  down  the  center 
aisle  to  the  stage,  and  the  Prologue  as  he  an 
swers  questions,  both  tend  to  carry  out  this  theory. 
You,  or  the  person  in  the  audience,  is  of  course  a 
definite  character  in  several  of  the  plays,  but  some 
times  a  youngster  in  the  house  will  pipe  up  and 
ask  the  Prologue  questions  on  his  own  account. 
This  never  fails  to  fill  Mr.  Walker  with  joy,  and 
the  Prologue^  himself  with  perturbation,  but  so 
far  the  illusion  has  never  been  lost,  no  matter 
how  severe  a  strain  was  put  upon  the  ingenuity  of 
the  players. 

Some  persons,  equally  misguided  with  those  be 
fore  mentioned,  have  exclaimed  that  Mr.  Walker 
in  his  attitude  toward  the  audience  has  attempted 
to  reinstitute  some  of  the  conventions  of  the  Greek 
stage,  and  one  critic  has  remarked  that  the 
"  trick  "  was  borrowed  straight  from  vaudeville. 
The  absurdity  of  both  these  statements  is  mani 
fest.  The  consideration  of  the  stage  and  the 
audience  as  a  unit,  and  the  effort  to  emphasize 
that  point  in  every  possible  manner  is  as  old  as 
the  stage  itself.  It  is  one  of  the  early  fundamen 
tals  of  stagecraft,  and  the  list  would  be  endless 
of  the  times  when  it  has  been  attempted.  "  The 
Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle  "  is  perhaps  the  most 
obvious  example,  but  like  instances  can  be  found 
in  the  drama  of  almost  every  country,  and  every 
age  as  ^  far  back  as  the  ancient  Hindu  theater. 
There  is  not  space  here  to  elucidate  this  theory, 
but  that  it  is  of  the  highest  importance  is  un 
questionable. 

In  his  directing,  Mr.  Walker  makes  certain 
demands,  and  adopts  certain  methods  which  are 

xvii 


INTRODUCTION 


interesting,  less  in  themselves,  than  in  the  results 
to  which  they  give  rise.  He  insists  that  every 
member  of  a  cast  shall  know  what  the  play  is 
about.  He  reads  the  play  with  them  together  and 
separately;  he  discusses  it  with  them  until  all  the 
individual  conceptions  become  unified  in  the  whole. 
One  of  his  chief  personal  exactions  is  that  actors 
shall  be  treated  not  as  actors  but  as  human  beings, 
and  the  result  is  that  every  member  of  his  com 
pany  is  a  friend  upon  whom  he  can  depend  for 
the  fullest  support,  and  the  heartiest  cooperation. 

In  rehearsing  a  new  play  Mr.  Walker  permits 
every  one  to  work  out  his  own  ideas  so  far  as  it  is 
possible  (herein  is  a  trace  of  the  Belasco  train 
ing),  and  a  little  later  in  the  work  the  process 
of  unifying  the  individual  interpretations,  and 
correcting  them  in  so  far  as  they  need  correction, 
is  taken  in  hand.  As  a  whole  the  Portmanteau 
company  may  be  said  to  read  excellently,  that 
is,  better  than  most  American  companies,  and 
not  so  well  as  most  English.  Seldom  a  word 
is  lost,  and  their  reading  of  verse  is  quite  re 
markable  considering  what  we  are  usually  obliged 
to  put  up  with.  Both  in  diction  and  in  enunci 
ation  the  company  will  bear  comparison  with  the 
best  this  country  has  to  offer.  Their  acting  is 
finished,  and  may  be  compared  to  the  Irish  Play 
ers  in  that  the  greatest  effect  is  secured  with  the 
least  effort.  Every  one  of  the  young  and  un 
known  actors  who  have  come  into  Mr.  Walker's 
charge  has  since  received  offers  from  Broadway 
managers,  but  only  one  or  two  have  succumbed  to 
the  temptation. 

Mr.  Walker's  effort  is  always  to  create  through 
xviii 


INTRODUCTION 


the  audience  rather  than  through  the  actors.  He 
provides  all  the  outline  of  illusion  with  all  the 
necessary  suggestion,  leaving  the  audience  to  fill 
in  the  details  for  themselves.  This  places  upon 
them  a  direct  necessity  for  coming  into  the  picture, 
to  create  for  themselves,  besides  responding  to 
the  creation  of  others.  And  as  I  have  said  be 
fore,  the  part  of  an  audience  which  will  do  this 
is  worth  working  for  —  and  it  is  no  small  part. 

In  "  Six  Who  Pass  While  the  Lentils  Boil " 
a  great  copper  pot  is  placed  on  the  fore-stage. 
The  audience  is  told  that  the  pot  is  on  a  fire 
and  that  it  is  full  of  boiling  water.  All  through 
the  performance  the  audience  may  be  heard  to 
gasp  audibly  whenever  any  one  comes  near  enough 
to  the  pot  to  be  in  danger  of  being  scalded. 
In  "  The  Lady  of  the  Weeping  Willow  Tree  "  a 
young  girl  kneels  by  the  bank  of  a  river  crooning 
a  quiet  little  song,  as  she  sorrows  over  her  trou 
bles.  There  is  no  river,  and  there  is  no  action, 
but,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  the  audience  have  en 
tered  so  fully  into  the  spirit  of  the  scene  that  they 
have  been  moved  to  tears.  Can  the  realistic  stage 
setting  better  this?  It  may  be  quite  truly  said 
that  Mr.  Walker  has  shown  what  can  be  done 
with  the  new  stage  art  quite  as  effectively  as  any 
other  producer  in  America.  In  conception  and  in 
execution  he  has  proved  to  the  utmost  that  an 
ounce  of  artistic  suggestion,  sympathetically  ap 
plied,  is  worth  a  pound  of  realistic  reproduction. 
The  first  of  these  stimulates  the  imagination;  the 
second  stultifies  it. 

It  must  not  be  thought,  however,  that  Mr. 
Walker  is  omnipotent  or  that  the  Portmanteau 

xix 


INTRODUCTION 


Theater  is  a  cure-all  for  the  woes  of  the  stage. 
One  becomes  so  surfeited  with  mediocrity  that  the 
advent  of  the  new  and  beautiful  is  apt  to  be  hailed 
as  the  very  criterion  of  excellence,  and  conse 
quently  over-rated.  Nothing  could  be  more  de 
structive  to  the  well  being  of  any  movement  than 
this  attitude,  for  there  inevitably  follows  in  its 
wake  a  reaction  which  often  undoes  all  the  good 
that  has  been  accomplished.  The  Portmanteau 
has  very  definite  limitations.  It  cannot  attempt 
to  compete  with  the  ordinary  theater  in  many  of 
its  phases.  Such  competition  is  not  necessary. 
The  Portmanteau  Theater  has  its  place,  and 
within  the  confines  of  its  limitations  it  must  exer 
cise  what  influence  it  can  bring  to  bear.  It  cannot 
be  otherwise  considered,  and  in  my  praise  of  its 
activities  it  must  always  be  borne  in  mind  that 
such  statements  are  relative,  not  absolute.  The 
Portmanteau  stage  is  small,  and  is  naturally  not 
to  be  compared  with  a  full-sized  stage  which  is 
equipped  with  every  device  of  contemporary 
stage-craft.  It  is  in  the  acceptance  of  its  self-im 
posed  limitations,  and  in  the  turning  of  them  to 
advantage  that  the  Portmanteau  derives  no  small 
part  of  its  importance.  It  should  be  considered 
not  in  any  sense  as  a  Messiah,  but  simply  as  a 
Prophet. 

THE  PLAYS 

The  first  play  in  his  present  repertory  which 
Mr.  Walker  wrote  was  "  The  Moon  Lady,"  a 
pantomime  written  in  1908,  six  years  before  the 
theater  itself  came  into  being.  The  list  of  the 
other  plays,  all  of  them  written  especially  for  the 

xx 


INTRODUCTION 


Portmanteau,  follows  with  the  time  of  writing. 

"Six  Who  Pass  While  the  Lentils  Boil," 
March  29th -April  ist,  1915. 

"  The  Trimplet,"  June  26th-  29th,  1915. 

"  The  Seven  Gifts,"  a  pantomime,  December 
yth,  1915. 

"Nevertheless,"  December  3ist,  1915. 

"The  Lady  of  the  Weeping  Willow  Tree," 
February  6th -i  6th,  1916. 

"The  Birthday  of  the  Infanta,"  July  I9th- 
2Oth,  1916. 

"  The  Very  Naked  Boy,"  September  3rd,  1916. 

"The  Medicine  Show,"  September  5th,  1916. 

It  may  fairly  be  said  that  although  the  ideas 
for  some  of  these  plays  had  been  in  Mr.  Walker's 
mind  for  some  time,  they  might  never  have 
reached  the  dignity  of  paper  had  it  not  been  for 
the  building  of  the  Portmanteau.  From  the  very 
first  Mr.  Walker  was  strongly  disinclined  to  use 
plays  without  paying  royalty,  but  his  circumstances 
at  that  time  did  not  permit  such  payment.  Obvi 
ously  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  write  his  own 
plays,  and  this  he  did. 

The  point  of  view  from  which  the  plays  are 
written  is  easy  of  explanation.  Tell_the^  story  — 
that  is  the  sole  secret;  no,  there  is  one  other  — 
first  have  a  story  to  tell.  Mr.  Walker  denies 
the  charge  of  symbolism  energetically,  and  herein 
he  is  at  one  with  Lord  Dunsany  who  has  suffered 
under  a  like  burden.  For  the  most  part  we  can 
concur  with  Mr.  Walker  in  his  contention  that 
his  plays  are  without  ulterior  motive :  it  is  only 
when  such  a  frankly  symbolic  piece  as  u  The 

xxi 


INTRODUCTION 


Trimplet  "  is  brought  into  the  discussion  that  we 
waver.  But  "  The  Trimplet  "  stands  alone  after 
all  in  its  symbolism,  if  symbolism  it  be.  The 
story  is  the  important  part  to  Mr.  Walker,  and 
it  is  the  important  part  to  most  of  his  audiences. 
If  the  others  are  able  to  get  something  more  from 
the  play  so  much  the  better,  but  the  vital  fact  is 
that  they  get  the  story  first.  The  symbolism  is 
secondary  when  it  is  present  at  all. 

At  least  half  of  the  plays  are  satires  of  a  mild 
form.  "  Six  Who  Pass  While  the  Lentils  Boil " 
is  the  best  example  of  this  phase,  as  "  The  Trim 
plet  "  (unquestionably  Mr.  Walker's  finest  play) 
is  the  best  example  of  his  more  purely  poetic 
vein.  "  The  Trimplet "  deals  with  a  certain 
magic  thing  which  can  cure  all  the  ills  of  whoever 
finds  it.  The  search  and  the  finding  constitute  the 
action  of  the  piece. 

"  Six  Who  Pass  While  the  Lentils  Boil  "  is  per 
haps  the  most  popular  play  in  the  Portmanteau 
repertory.  The  story  is  of  a  Queen  who,  having 
stepped  on  the  ring-toe  of  the  King's  great-aunt, 
is  condemned  to  die  before  the  King's  four  clocks 
strike  twelve.  The  Six  who  pass  the  pot,  in  which 
boil  the  lentils,  are  on  their  way  to  the  behead 
ing. 

"  Nevertheless,"  an  interlude  played  before  the 
curtains  on  the  fore-stage,  tells  of  a  burglar  who 
reaches  regeneration  through  two  children  and  a 
dictionary.  This  play  is  a  point  of  contention. 
It  is  liked  and  disliked  in  turn  by  critics  and  audi 
ences.  The  key  to  the  problem,  however,  is  in  the 
point  of  view  which  is  brought  to  bear  on  the  play. 
If  one  looks  at  it  in  the  cold  gray  light  of  middle- 

xxii 


INTRODUCTION 


aged  inexperience  it  is  doubtless  a  rather  tedious 
trifle,  but  if  one's  eyes  are  those  of  childhood 
where  "  every  one  lives  happy  ever  after  "  and 
an  all-abiding  faith  in  the  ultimate  fitness  of  things 
is  the  chief  tenet  of  one's  convictions  —  one  will 
like  the  play.  And  this  commentary  is  true  in 
a  greater  or  less  degree  of  all  Mr.  Walker's 
work. 

"  The  Medicine  Show "  is  a  character  study 
from  the  banks  of  the  Ohio  River.  One  does  not 
see  either  the  show  or  the  river,  but  that  does  not 
matter.  This  play  is  a  relic  of  the  days  in 
Augusta,  Kentucky.  Every  word  spoken  by  the 
three  characters  was  heard  at  some  time  by  the 
author  as  he  lay,  a  small  boy,  on  the  banks  of  the 
great  river.  Its  local  color  is  exact  to  a  degree, 
and  its  characterization  is  equally  authentic,  but 
that  does  not  prevent  it  from  being  amusing. 
That  it  is  true  to  life  is  well  borne  out  by  the  fact 
that  the  play  was  received  with  the  utmost  en 
thusiasm  in  that  part  of  the  world  where  the  char 
acters  were  known  and  appreciated.  New  Eng 
land  took  the  piece  coldly:  Giz  and  Lut'er  were 
too  dirty  for  New  England. 

'  The  Seven  Gifts,"  a  pantomime,  was  played 
for  the  first  time  in  Madison  Square,  New  York 
City,  on  Christmas  night,  1915.  The  Theater 
was  set  up  in  the  Square  and  a  crowd  of  more 
than  5000  stood  in  the  snow  to  see  the  perform 
ance.  The  players  were  warmed  by  heaters 
placed  underneath  the  stage,  and  the  heat  gen 
erated  became  at  times  so  intense  that  'they  were 
in  danger  in  being  parboiled,  though  the  tempera 
ture  was  near  the  freezing  mark  outside.  Never- 

xxiii 


INTRODUCTION 


theless  the  audience  of  5000  stood  patiently  in 
the  cold  dark  to  which  they  were  seemingly  ob 
livious  as  they  watched  in  fascinated  wonder. 

"  The  Lady  of  the  Weeping  Willow  Tree  "  is 
a  play  of  old  Japan,  and  many  of  the  lines  are 
taken  from  old  Japanese  songs,  and  legends  with 
which  the  western  world  is  not  familiar.  The 
play  is  a  sad  little  tale;  so  sad,  indeed,  that  I  have 
known  a  hardened  press-agent  to  weep  over  it  as 
he  read  the  manuscript.  And  a  greater  tribute 
than  this  would  be  impossible  in  my  opinion! 
But  though  it  is  sad  it  is  beautiful,  and  it  is  the 
only  play  Mr.  Walker  has  written  in  more  than 
one  act. 

"  The  Very  Naked  Boy  "  is  another  interlude 
of  rapid  action.  The  play  is  not  as  fine  as  the 
others,  however,  either  in  conception  or  in  the 
working  out  of  the  little  episode  on  which  it  is 
based. 

'  The  Birthday  of  the  Infanta  "  in  an  adapta 
tion  from  a  story  of  Oscar  Wilde's.  The  original 
is  full  of  dramatic  incident  and  lends  itself  pe 
culiarly  to  the  treatment  accorded  it.  The  play 
has  been  successful  from  the  very  start.  It  is 
notable  that  Alfred  Noyes  used  the  same  story 
for  his  poem  "  The  Dwarf's  Tragedy,"  one  of 
his  most  poignantly  beautiful  creations.  Mr. 
Walker's  conception  does  the  original  full  justice, 
and  more  than  that  no  one  can  say.  The  staging 
of  this  piece  is  particularly  fine  with  costumes  by 
Mrs.  John  W.  Alexander  from  original  Velasquez 
portraits,  and  the  set  by  Frank  J.  Zimmerer. 

Mr.  Walker  has  several  plays  in  preparation 
notably  "  A  Leaf  in  the  Wind,"  a  peace  play  in 

xxiv 


INTRODUCTION 


which  there  is  no  mention  of  war,  and  "  The  Win 
dow  Garden,"  the  story  of  a  little  cripple  in  the 
slums  of  a  great  city.  As  will  be  seen  by  the  list 
of  plays  with  the  dates  of  writing  Mr.  Walker  is 
a  rapid  workman,  but  that  is  not  always  true. 
"  The  Window  Garden  "  has  been  rewritten  six 
times  so  far,  but  when  it  is  done  it  will  be  as  it 
was  always  intended. 

Mr.  Walker's  attitude  toward  the  writing  of  his 
plays,  his  emphasis  on  the  importance  of  telling 
the  story,  may  be  traced  in  some  part  to  the  old 
English  and  Scottish  ballads  which  influenced  him 
so  greatly  in  his  earlier  youth.  The  same  funda 
mentals  are  apparent  in  each;  the  narrative,  the 
color  and  clarity  of  outline,  and  the  same  tendency 
to  bring  the  audience  into  active  cooperation  all 
proceed  from  the  same  source.  But  it  is  never 
plot  for  plot's  sake  with  Mr.  Walker.  The  plot 
grows  out  of  the  characters  inevitably  as  it  should 
grow,  but  the  plot  never  controls  the  characters. 
The  length  of  the  plays  is  entirely  unconventional 
from  a  theatric  standpoint.  Some  of  them  play 
twenty  minutes,  and  some  play  fifty.  It  depends 
solely  on  the  story  that  is  to  be  told.  There  is 
neither  cutting  to  make  it  shorter  nor  padding  to 
make  it  longer.  The  play  dictates  its  own  length 
by  its  own  requirements.  It  has  been  asked 
whether  the  plays  have  been  influenced  by  the 
theater.  Physically  they  have  not.  That  is  to 
say  that  the  plays  are  in  no  sense  unconven 
tional  because  the  theater  itself  is  unconventional. 
Realistic  plays  could  be  staged  in  the  Portmanteau 
just  as  effectively  as  the  poetic  and  more  fanciful 
drama.  But  it  is  quite  probable  that  in  writing 

XXV 


INTRODUCTION 


his  plays  Mr.  Walker  has  always  thought  of  them 
in  terms  of  the  Portmanteau,  though  this  does  not 
mean  that  any  very  pronounced  limitation  has  been 
imposed  upon  them.  Rather  otherwise,  in  so  far 
as  theatrical  effects  are  concerned. 

Mr.  Walker,  like  Mr.  Chesterton,  does  and 
says  the  extraordinary  thing  because  it  is  the  log 
ical  thing.  Herein  he  is  at  one  with  the  child 
mind,  and  herein  lies  no  small  measure  of  his  im 
portance.  The  creation  of  the  Prologue,  the  De 
vice  Bearer,  and  the  You,  in  the  audience,  bear 
witness  to  this  very  clearly.  The  Prologue,  who 
answers  questions  from  the  audience,  and  You 
who  asks  them,  have  both  a  very  definite  reason. 
There  are  usually  people  in  the  theater  who  talk 
during  a  performance,  thus  making  themselves  a 
nuisance  to  all  around  them.  One  dislikes  them 
because  they  distract  one's  attention  from  the 
stage,  and  too  because  one  involuntarily  tries  un 
successfully  to  hear  what  they  are  saying.  Now 
we  have  questions  asked  and  answered  so  that  the 
whole  theater  can  hear.  The  performance  is  un 
disturbed,  and  so  is  the  audience.  (There  is  dis 
cernible,  however,  a  touch  of  satire  in  the  concep 
tion.)  And  the  Prologue  to  the  Theater  chanted 
by  Memory,  as  well  as  the  prologues  to  the  sepa 
rate  plays  spoken  by  the  Prologue  himself  are  for 
the  people  who  must  know  exactly  what  it  is  all 
about.  What  better  method  could  there  be  of 
telling  them?  The  Prologue  to  the  Theater  is  in 
teresting  in  itself  as  having  originally  no  connec 
tion  with  the  Portmanteau.  It  was  written  in 
1912  as  the  prologue  to  a  book  which  was  never 
published,  and  when  the  theater  was  built  it  be- 

xxvi 


INTRODUCTION 


came  available.  It  is  an  exquisite  bit  of  prose, 
comparable  to  Dunsany  in  its  poetry  of  thought 
and  of  expression. 

In  his  plays  Mr.  Walker  has  reached  the  same 
conclusion  that  every  really  worthy,  imaginative 
writer  has  reached  in  the  course  of  centuries, 
namely  that  the  child  mind  and  the  adult  mind  are 
fundamentally  the  same,  and  are  thus  subject  to 
the  same  reaction  and  the  same  response.  If  the 
adult  perception  can  once  be  induced  to  cast  loose 
the  bonds  of  custom,  conventionality,  and  sophis 
try  which  have  been  grafted  on  imperceptibly 
through  the  course  of  years,  and  reach  to  the 
horizon  of  the  child  mind,  we  have  every  possi 
bility  of  a  very  high  form  of  art.  A  child  read 
ing  a  fairy  tale  perceives  nothing  beyond  the  story 
itself,  and  is  consequently  satisfied,  providing  the 
tale  be  adequate,  but  the  more  mature  intelligence 
immediately  translates  the  characters  and  inci 
dents  into  symbols  of  abstract  qualities,  acquiring 
thereby  an  emotional  stimulus  not  only  on  the 
imaginative  but  also  on  the  spiritual  side.  Some 
times  this  is  carried  to  extremes,  and  we  have  a 
frantic  search  for  symbolism  where  none  is  in 
tended,  an  inability  to  accept  the  story  for  the 
story's  sake, —  it  is  this  among  other  things  with 
which^  Mr.  Walker  is  contending.  The  child 
mind  is,  relatively  speaking,  infinite,  and  the  word 
infinite  brings  us  at  once  to  universality,  that  qual 
ity  upon  which  all  true  art  is  founded  as  upon  a 
rocL  Mr.  Walker  has  cut  through  to  fundamen 
tals  in  his  work,  and  it  is  that  which  makes  him 
worthy  of  especial  attention.  Only  his  terminol 
ogy  is  strange,  even  while  it  possesses  that  deli- 
xxvii 


INTRODUCTION 


cate  charm  which  only  an  artist  with  his  point  of 
view  could  give  it. 

I  do  not  mean  that  Mr.  Walker's  type  of  play 
will  be  all  things  to  all  men.  It  will  not,  and  can 
not  be,  nor  is  it  even  intended  that  it  should.  It 
will  always  fall  short  on  the  purely  intellectual 
side,  and  those  persons  who  derive  their  sole  en 
joyment  from  an  intellectual  stimulus  will  always 
come  away  unsatisfied.  Beyond  question  one  of 
the  reasons  for  the  marked  success  of  this  type  of 
play  at  present  is  simply  that  the  inevitable  reac 
tion  has  set  in  against  the  play  of  pure  observa 
tion  as  opposed  to  that  of  pure  imagination.  One 
side  of  our  natures  has  been  greatly  neglected,  and 
that  side  is  now  coming  into  its  own  as  a  plant 
blooms  under  watering.  When  the  pendulum 
has  swung  too  far  we  shall  again  react.  It  is  un 
fortunate  that  not  often  in  an  age  comes  that 
genius  who  can  combine  successfully  the  seen  and 
the  unseen,  the  actual  and  the  real.  And  al 
though  within  their  scope  Mr.  Walker's  plays 
are  of  especial  significance,  that  scope  is  admit 
tedly  small.  One  cannot  compare  "  Alice  in 
Wonderland  "  with  the  "  Odyssey."  And  by  the 
way,  here  is  an  interesting  point  —  Mr.  Walker 
has  never  read  a  line  of  Lewis  Carroll;  he  has  not 
even  looked  at  the  pictures!  This  absolves  him 
of  the  accusation  of  imitation  at  any  rate.  It 
would  be  absurd  to  point  out  these  pieces  written 
for  the  Portmanteau  as  masterpieces  either  of  lit 
erature  or  of  the  dramatic  art,  but  within  their 
scope,  admitting  their  obvious  restrictions,  they 
are  significant  both  in  themselves  and  as  an  expo 
sition  of  certain  artistic  theories  of  importance. 
xxviii 


INTRODUCTION 


THE  RESULT 

The  first  performances  in  the  Portmanteau 
Theater  were  given  at  Christodora  House,  a  set 
tlement  on  Avenue  B,  New  York  City.  The 
reason  for  this  was  that  Mr.  Walker  had  been  in 
terested  in  the  activities  of  Christodora  House  for 
some  time,  and  intended  to  establish  there  by 
means  of  the  Portmanteau  a  community  theater 
somewhat  like  the  Neighborhood  Playhouse  in 
Grand  Street.  At  the  last  moment,  however,  this 
idea  proved  impracticable,  and  several  invitation 
performances  were  given  instead  to  which  profes 
sional  people  of  importance  were  invited.  The 
success  was  instantaneous.  Critics,  managers, 
and  amateurs  alike  came,  saw,  and  were  con 
quered.  The  bill  for  these  initial  performances 
consisted  of  "  The  Trimplet,"  "  The  Six  Who 
Pass  While  the  Lentils  Boil,"  and  "  A  Fan  and 
Two  Candlesticks  "  by  Mary  MacMillan.  The 
casts  were  composed  of  young  professionals  whom 
Mr.  Walker  had  interested  in  the  venture,  and 
who  in  their  enthusiasm  contributed  their  services 
free  of  charge.  It  was  worth  their  while  to  have 
such  an  opportunity  of  showing  their  talent,  in 
stead  of  remaining  buried  at  the  bottom  of  a 
Broadway  company.  Not  one  of  them  ever  re 
gretted  the  gamble,  if  such  it  could  be  deemed. 
These  performances  were  given  on  July  I4th, 
1 5th,  and  2ist,  1915,  and  from  then  on  until 
Christmas  Mr.  Walker  fought  illness  and  pre 
pared  as  best  he  could  for  the  coming  year. 
He  now  had  the  theater,  the  company,  and  suffi 
cient  plays  with  which  to  open  a  repertory  season. 

xxix 


INTRODUCTION 


On  Christmas  night  the  Portmanteau  was  set 
up  in  Madison  Square,  and  a  performance  of 
"  The  Seven  Gifts,"  a  pantomime,  was  given,  and 
after  this  the  Portmanteau  took  its  place  in  the 
ranks.  The  first  professional  or  paid  perform 
ance  was  in  Boston  on  February  I4th,  1916,  and 
after  that  the  company  was  taken  on  tour  through 
New  England,  as  far  west  as  Chicago,  and  as  far 
south  as  Washington.  The  tour  was  somewhat 
in  the  nature  of  a  triumphal  march  (in  all  my 
life  I  have  never  seen  such  notices  and  so  many 
of  them)  and  Mr.  Walker  brought  his  theater 
back  to  New  York  reinvigorated,  and  ready  to 
try  to  crack  the  hardest  nut  of  all  —  New  York 
itself.  By  this  time  the  Portmanteau  had  found 
its  feet.  In  the  Christodora  House  it  had  been 
tried  on  professionals,  and  had  been  eagerly  ac 
cepted;  now  during  the  tour  it  had  played  in  great 
cities,  and  in  small  towns,  before  audiences  com 
posed  of  the  400  and  audiences  composed  of  the 
4,000,000,  and  it  had  gone  equally  well  with  rich 
and  poor,  young  and  old.  Children  adored  the 
theater  and  the  plays,  and  grown-ups  had  come 
to  patronise  and  remained  to  applaud.  It  was 
now  certain  that  a  universal  chord  had  been 
struck,  and  that  success  of  the  theater  was  assured. 

In  the  summer  of  1916  the  Portmanteau  was 
taken  to  Wyoming,  New  York,  and  here  the  new 
plays  were  tried  out  and  the  repertory  for  the 
coming  season  whipped  into  shape.  The  next  Oc 
tober  another  and  shorter  tour  through  New  Eng 
land  was  arranged  which  was  carried  out  with  a 
repetition  of  the  first  success.  It  may  be  said  here 
that  fully  nine-tenths  of  the  initial  bookings  for  the 

XXX 


INTRODUCTION 


Portmanteau  have  been  renewed,  and  in  nearly 
every  instance  for  a  longer  run  than  was  first 
given.  On  November  27th,  1916,  the  Portman 
teau  opened  at  the  Thirty-ninth  Street  Theater, 
New  York,  and  after  remaining  there  two  weeks, 
changed  to  the  Princess  Theater  just  across  the 
street,  where  it  played  until  January  6th,  1917. 
It  could  have  played  out  the  season  there  except 
for  the  fact  that  bookings  had  been  arranged 
which  made  it  imperative  to  close  at  the  stated 
time.  After  January  6th  the  theater  started  on 
a  western  tour. 

It  had  been  considered  highly  undesirable  to 
place  the  Portmanteau  in  direct  competition  with 
the  Broadway  theaters  during  the  New  York  run, 
and  so  at  the  Thirty-ninth  Street  Theater  there 
were  no  evening  performances,  and  only  four 
matinees  a  week,  with  one  morning  performance 
for  children  on  Saturday.  This  last,  however, 
was  not  successful  and  was  shortly  discontinued. 
On  moving  to  the  Princess  Theater  the  demand 
was  so  great  that  Mr.  Walker  was  obliged  to 
play  not  only  every  afternoon,  but  also  every 
evening,  a  total  of  twelve  performances  a  week. 
And  the  houses  to  which  the  Portmanteau  played 
were  usually  full.  No  mere  fad  could  have  made 
such  a  record.  It  is  absolute  proof  of  the  in 
trinsic  worth  of  the  Portmanteau  productions 
that  the  second  largest  and  the  most  incredulous 
city  in  the  world  should  have  given  it  the  response 
it  did.  The  Portmanteau  Theater  was  set  on  the 
stage  of  the  larger  theater,  and  this  occasionally- 
puzzled  the  audience,  but  there  seemed  no  feasi 
ble  method  of  obviating  the  difficulty  though  Mr. 

xxxi 


INTRODUCTION 


Walker  labored  long  and  earnestly  at  the  prob 
lem. 

The  New  York  run  was  rendered  notable  espe 
cially  because  of  the  production  of  three  plays  by 
Lord  Dunsany  two  of  which  had  not  hitherto 
been  performed  professionally  in  America.  The 
sets  for  these  plays,  as  indeed  the  sets  for  the  rest 
of  the  repertory,  are  surpassed  by  little  that  had 
been  done  in  America  so  far.  All  but  three  of 
the  sets  have  been  made  by  Mr.  Zimmerer,  who 
also  did  some  of  the  sets  for  the  Neighborhood 
Playhouse.  Mr.  Zimmerer  has  done  all  the  sets 
and  costumes  for  the  Portmanteau  productions 
with  the  following  exceptions,  the  set  for  "  Six 
Who  Pass  While  the  Lentils  Boil "  was  made  by 
William  J.  Sheafe,  Jr.,  who  also  made  the  first 
model  of  the  theater  itself,  and  the  costumes  for 
the  same  play  were  designed  by  Wilmot  Heitland 
who  also  designed  the  scenery  and  costumes  for 
"  Gammer  Gurton's  Nedle,"  and  "  The  Lady  of 
the  Weeping  Willow  Tree."  The  costumes  for 
"  The  Birthday  of  the  Infanta  "  were  designed 
by  Mrs.  John  W.  Alexander.  With  these  ex 
ceptions  Mr.  Zimmerer  has  had  the  field  to  him 
self,  and  splendid  use  he  has  made  of  it.  I  do 
not  intend  in  any  sense  to  depreciate  the  work 
done  by  others  in  favor  of  Mr.  Zimmerer  — 
their  achievements  are  too  distinguished  to  per 
mit  that  —  but  Mr.  Zimmerer  as  a  member  of 
the  company,  and  as  scenic  director  of  the  theater 
is  surely  entitled  to  the  major  portion  of  the 
credit. 

It  was  early  in  1916  when  Mr.  Walker  placed 
the  business  management  of  the  Portmanteau  in 
xxxii 


INTRODUCTION 


the  hands  of  Maximilian  Elser,  Jr.,  and  Russell 
Janney,  both  of  them  young,  enthusiastic  and  en 
tirely  fitted  to  assume  such  control.  And  here 
let  me  say  that  any  rumors  concerning  the  finan 
cial  backing  of  the  Portmanteau  by  any  one  are 
entirely  without  foundation.  That  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  and  important  features  of  its 
progress.  At  the  outset  Mr.  Walker  borrowed 
$3,000,  and  up  to  December,  1916,  every  penny 
that  was  put  into  the  Portmanteau  came  out  of 
Mr.  Walker's  pocket.  He  received  offers  of 
backing  time  and  again,  but  he  refused  them  be 
cause  he  felt  that  his  salvation  lay  in  perfect 
freedom.  With  the  exception  of  the  $3,000  men 
tioned  the  Portmanteau  paid  its  own  way.  It 
did  more  than  that.  In  the  Spring  of  1916  it 
showed  a  profit  of  twenty  per  cent,  on  the  invest 
ment  to  date.  And  yet  it  is  an  "  uncommercial  " 
theater !  Surely  it  is  uncommercial  in  that  it 
does  not  cater  to  "  the  tired  business  man,"  but 
just  as  surely  the  theater  is  commercial  from  a 
financial  standpoint.  It  has  not  been  able  to  pay 
for  the  mass  of  publicity  accorded  other  produc 
tions,  but  no  other  production  has  been  given  the 
enormous  amount  of  publicity  accorded  the  Port 
manteau.  And  that  is  because  it  is  important  in 
itself,  able  to  stand  on  its  own  feet,  and  make  its 
own  way  in  the  world. 

The  response  to  most  of  the  plays  has  been  very 
even  no  matter  what  the  character  or  the  situation 
of  the  audience,  but  one  or  two  of  the  plays 
present  rather  amusing  problems.  "  The  Trimp- 
let "  is  one  of  the  favorite  pieces  with  the  public. 
It  has  always  gone  well,  yet  it  is  the  one  piece  the 
xxxiii 


INTRODUCTION 


critics  unite  in  damning !  And  too  "  Gammer 
Gurton's  Nedle,"  the  earliest  example  of  English 
comedy,  included  in  every  university  course  on 
the  history  of  the  drama,  has  been  a  failure  from 
the  start  in  the  colleges,  but  has  taken  by  storm 
New  York,  where  it  was  played  nineteen  times  in 
two  weeks.  Strange,  is  it  not? 

Particularly  in  view  of  what  I  have  already  said 
about  the  stage  settings  for  the  Portmanteau  pro 
ductions,  it  is  interesting  to  note  what  some  of 
them  cost.  One  play  cost  nothing  whatever  to 
stage,  one  play  cost  $52,  one  cost  $300,  and  one 
cost  $1500.  It  is  not  necessary  to  go  all  through 
the  list,  for  these  four  are  representative.  It 
should  be  observed,  however,  that  the  play  with 
practically  no  setting  at  all,  which  cost  nothing, 
has  had  a  success  equal  to  that  of  the  play  that 
cost  $1500  to  produce  (which  sum  is  the  largest 
ever  expended  by  Mr.  Walker  on  a  production). 

I  desire  again  to  make  here  the  point  that  the 
appeal  of  the  Portmanteau  has  not  been  confined 
to  any  one  class  or  to  any  one  age  of  persons.  It 
is  this  peculiar  universality  of  appeal  which  makes 
the  Portmanteau  of  importance  both  from  a  the 
atric  and  dramatic  standpoint.  I  should  like  also 
to  point  out  one  thing  that  I  have  noticed  about 
Portmanteau  audiences, —  men  are  quicker  to  get 
into  the  spirit  of  the  thing  than  women.  The 
women  are  usually  a  little  hesitant,  and  self-con 
scious,  while  the  men  lose  all  thought  of  self 
in  their  enjoyment  of  what  is  before  them.  Per 
haps  this  is  because  men  always  retain  a  large, 
healthy  strain  of  the  "  little-boy "  spirit  while 
women  have  but  little  if  any  of  the  "  little-girl." 
xxxiv 


INTRODUCTION 


;And  too  a  little  boy  is  a  known  and  loved  factor 
<  in  the  scheme  of  things,  but  a  little  girl  —  is  there 
such  a  thing? 

The  reason  for  the  Portmanteau  Theater  itself 
as  differentiated  from  its  productions  may  be  eas 
ily  summed  up  in  the  statement  that  it  permits  its 
director  absolute  freedom.  He  can  in  an  almost 
I  literal  sense  take  up  his  theater  and  walk.  He  is 
:  bound  down  by  none  of  the  inconveniences  that 
beset  the  ordinary  play  house.  When  he  goes  on 
tour  his  scenery  always  fits  the  stage  because  it  is 
always  the  same  stage.  He  can  play  where  there 
is  no  theater  if  there  is  a  hall,  or  a  barn  or  a  ball 
room  in  which  he  can  set  up  his  equipment.  I 
have  been  asked  whether  in  the  original  conception 
of  the  Portmanteau  there  was  not  an  auditorium 
included.  No,  never.  And  hence  in  a  certain 
sense  the  Portmanteau  is  not  a  theater  at  all.  It 
is  simply  a  stage  with  all  the  appurtenances  of  one. 
The  Portmanteau  Theater  proves  once  for  all 
how  easily  and  simply,  and  yet  how  artistically 
and  effectively,  things  can  be  done.  It  is  not 
"  highbrow  "  any  more  than  it  is  the  opposite. 
It  is  for  everybody.  The  Portmanteau  has 
shown  us  that  a  very  high  form  of  art  can  be  pro 
duced  at  a  very  low  cast.  And  it  has  shown  that 
whatever  the  cost  the  thing  that  is  really  worth 
while  will  more  than  pay  for  itself. 

The  future  of  the  Portmanteau  is  another  ques 
tion.  It  may  be  that  in  the  due  course  of  time 
Mr.  Walker  will  permit  other  theaters  to  be  built 
from  his  plans,  and  we  shall  have  the  travelling 
theater  as  a  fixture  in  our  theatrical  life.  When 
this  becomes  possible  it  will  engender  a  spread  and 

xxxv 


INTRODUCTION 


growth  of  the  new  stage  art  which  would  other 
wise  have  been  impossible.  One  of  the  most  vital 
things  the  Portmanteau  Theater  has  given  us  so 
far,  is  probably  the  best  repertory  company  in 
America.  And  this  is  after  all  what  Mr.  Walker 
is  working  for  most.  Books  have  been  written 
without  end  on  the  necessity  of  the  repertory  the 
ater.  The  experiment  has  been  tried  and  tried 
again,  and  in  most  instances  it  has  failed.  But 
from  the  Theatre  Libre  to  the  Abbey  Theater  all 
these  experiments  have  left  their  mark,  have  em 
phasized  again  the  necessity  for  such  a  move,  and 
have  brought  us  one  step  nearer  to  the  goal.  And 
too,  the  traveling  repertory  theater  has  twice  the 
chance  of  success  that  a  stationary  theater  has, 
for  it  is  not  dependent  upon  the  favor  of  one 
locality.  This  is  of  prime  and  far  reaching  im 
portance. 

It  is  not  necessary  that  the  repertory  imply  the 
"  little  "  theater,  though  that  has  its  undeniable 
place.  The  ideal  seating  capacity  of  a  theater  is 
from  500  to  750,  and  the  size  of  the  ideal  stage 
is  that  of  the  Princess  Theater,  New  York.  The 
proportions  of  the  Punch  and  Judy  Theater,  New 
York,  are  excellent  in  every  way,  but  this  is  ex 
clusive  of  the  stage  itself.  The  auditorium  should 
be  deeper  than  it  is  wide,  and  no  wider  than  the 
stage.  The  whole  stage  picture  should  always  be 
in  full  view  of  every  one,  and  every  one  should 
see  it  from  approximately  the  same  angle. 

Before  leaving  the  Portmanteau  Theater  let 

me  call  attention  to  another  point  of  importance. 

The  full  quota  of  sets  for  the  theater  along  with 

the  theater  itself  can  be  transported  at  the  cost,  or 

xxxvi 


INTRODUCTION 


less  than  the  cost,  of  transporting  the  scenery 
alone  of  an  ordinary  production.  And,  in  addi 
tion,  there  is  no  house  rent  to  pay,  the  biggest 
item  of  all,  when  the  theater  reaches  its  destina 
tion.  True,  it  must  have  its  hall  or  auditorium  of 
some  kind,  but  that  is  not  a  drop  in  the  bucket 
compared  with  what  most  managers  have  to  pay 
for  the  use  of  a  completely  equipped  theater. 
And  the  Portmanteau  has  its  own  lighting  system 
and  everything  else  it  needs.  If  only  because  of 
this  one  factor  of  expense,  the  theater  has  more 
than  justified  its  existence.  With  such  an  equip 
ment  the  young  man  whose  principal  assets  are 
taste  and  judgment  can  afford  to  embark  on  a  man 
agerial  career  unhampered  by  the  thought  that  he 
will  have  to  invest  a  fortune  before  he  sees  the 
first  profits.  If  the  Portmanteau  eventually  tends 
to  take  the  theater  out  of  the  hands  of  those  en 
tirely  unfitted  to  control  it,  and  helps  to  restore 
the  balance  of  power  by  bringing  the  younger  and 
more  idealistic  element  into  the  field,  it  will  have 
performed  an  epoch-making  task. 

By  all  this  it  will  be  seen  that  the  Portmanteau 
Theater  and  its  plays  cannot  be  considered  quite 
together.  The  theater  itself  means  much  artis 
tically  and  commercially.  It  is  in  itself  an  eman 
cipation  proclamation,  for  it  means  freedom  of 
movement,  and  vastly  increased  opportunities. 
It  is  the  modern  version  of  the  strolling  players. 
It  has  given  us  a  lighting  system  unequaled  in  its 
simplicity  and  unrivaled  in  the  ordinary  theater. 
The  settings  for  its  plays  have  been  masterpieces 
of  stage  art.  The  theater  itself  and  the  effects 
which  it  has  engendered  are  thus  of  the  utmost  im- 
xxxvii 


INTRODUCTION 


portance  in  the  development  and  history  of  the 
stage. 

The  plays  contained  in  the  repertory  of  the 
theater,  of  which  there  is  a  list  in  the  Appendix, 
are  of  like  importance  in  the  scheme  of  things, 
not  in  themselves,  but  in  the  trend  which  they 
indicate.  We  are  unquestionably  upon  the  eve 
of  a  great  romantic  renaissance.  Woe  to  art  if 
this  be  not  so!  The  stage  craft  of  Craig,  of 
Reinhardt,  and  of  Barker  has  marked  the  roman 
tic  renaissance  of  the  theater;  surely  the  drama 
cannot  do  otherwise  than  follow.  Naturalism  is 
to  be  considered  as  a  necessary  purgative  rather 
than  as  a  healthy,  normal  condition  of  the  artistic 
structure.  "  The  Gods  of  the  Mountain "  of 
Lord  Dunsany,  and  "  The  Trimplet "  of  Stuart 
Walker  are  quite  as  "  real "  as  "  The  Fugitive  " 
of  Galsworthy.  Their  terminology  is  different, 
that  is  all.  That  which  is  true  of  man  in  the 
mythical  city  of  Kongros  is  likewise  true  of  him 
in  London.  I  do  not  mean  to  argue  in  favor  of 
the  abandonment  of  the  play  written  in  terms  of 
every-day  life,  such  as  Galsworthy's,  in  favor  of 
the  purely  imaginative,  and  poetic  drama.  Such 
an  abandonment  would  be  as  futile  as  it  would 
unwise.  But  I  do  mean  to  point  out  that  the  ab 
normal  intellectualization  of  art  is  fully  as  de 
structive  to  the  vital  spiritual  quality  as  the  ethe- 
realization  of  art  would  be  to  the  necessary  intel 
lectual  quality.  The  Scriptures  bid  us  to  be  as 
little  children.  We  are  as  little  children,  and  the 
virtue  lies  not  in  the  fact  itself,  but  in  our  realiza 
tion  and  acknowledgment  of  it.  It  is  only  when 
we  endeavor  to  assume  the  raiment  of  deities  that 
xxxviii 


INTRODUCTION 


we  are  overtaken  by  the  seven  green  gods  of 
Marma  and  punished  for  our  temerity  —  or  that 
Mr.  Shaw,  who  also  is  a  prophet  in  his  own  way, 
is  able  to  point  the  finger  of  scorn  at  us,  wise  in 
our  folly. 

In  all  that  I  have  written  here  it  will  be  very 
evident  that  I  have  dwelt  on  the  excellencies  of 
the  Portmanteau  Theater  and  its  plays  rather 
than  on  the  weaknesses.  Surely  that  is  but  nat 
ural.  It  must  not  be  thought,  however,  that 
there  are  no  weaknesses,  that  there  is  no  room  for 
improvement,  or  that  the  last  word  has  been  said 
on  the  subject.  (Indeed  it  is  one  of  the  most  vital 
factors,  that  only  the  first  word  has  been  said.) 
I  have  endeavored  to  sum  up  here  what  the 
Portmanteau  has  done  as  well  as  what  it  is,  but 
by  far  the  most  important  question  is  what  it 
may  do,  and  what  it  may  become.  It  may  be  that 
the  influence  it  will  finally  exert  will  be  largely  in 
direct,  that  the  others  who  come  after  Mr.  Walker 
will  lay  the  surface  on  the  road  bed  he  has  worked 
over.  Only  Time  will  show  that,  and  Time  is 
jealous  of  his  secrets.  But  at  least  we  have  been 
shown  something  new,  something  worth  while, 
and  so  it  is  well  to  pause  and  consider  not  only 
what  it  does  mean,  but  also  what  it  may  mean  in 
the  final  working  out  of  the  scheme  of  things. 
What  will  the  travelling  theater,  the  portable 
stage,  mean  to  the  repertory  movement?  Some 
thing  beyond  question.  What  does  the  drama  of 
imagination  as  opposed  to  that  of  observation  in 
dicate,  and  where  will  it  lead  us?  Surely  it  is 
worthy  of  consideration.  Hence  it  must  again 
be  borne  in  mind  that  the  importance  of  the  Port- 
xxxix 


INTRODUCTION 


manteau,  and  it  is  important,  is  entirely  relative, 
not  absolute,  that  while  it  is  deeply  suggestive  it 
is  not  in  any  sense  conclusive,  and  that  it  is  far 
less  what  the  Portmanteau  is  now  than  what  we 
shall  make  of  it  in  the  future  which  must  concern 
us. 

And  so  when  Memory  draws  slowly  back  the 
deep  blue  curtains  of  the  Portmanteau  Theater, 
and  bids  us  come  with  her  through  the  portals  of 
"  once  upon  a  time,  but  not  so  very  long  ago," 
it  is  good  to  grasp  our  faith  very  firmly  and  to  go 
with  her,  for  there  we  may  find  not  the  surface 
things  of  every  day  life,  but  the  deeper  things. 
We  may  even  find  Truth.  And  we  may  even  find 
that  Truth  is  beautiful. 

EDWARD  HALE  BIERSTADT. 
New  York  City 
January,  1917 


THE  PROLOGUE  TO  THE 
PORTMANTEAU  THEATER 


THE  PROLOGUE 


As  the  lights  in  the  theater  are  lowered  the 
'voice  of  MEMORY  is  heard  as  she  passes  through 
the  audience  to  the  stage. 

MEMORY 

Once  upon  a  time,  but  not  so  very  long  ago,  you 
very  grown-ups  believed  in  all  true  things.  -You 
believed  until  you  met  the  Fourteen  Doubters 
who  were  so  positive  in  their  unbelief  that  you 
weakly  cast  aside  the  things  that  made  you 
happy  for  the  hapless  things  that  they  were  call 
ing  life.  LYou  were  afraid  or  ashamed  to  per 
sist  in  your  old  thoughts,  and  strong  in  your 
folly  you  discouraged  your  little  boy,  and  other 
people^s  little  boys  from  the  pastimes  they  had 
loved,  j  Yet  all  through  the  early  days  you  had 
been  surely  building  magnificent  cities,  and  all 
about  you  laying  out  magnificent  gardens,  and, 
with  an  April  pool  you  had  made  infinite  seas 
where  pirates  fought  or  mermaids  played  in 
coral  caves.  Then  came  the  Doubter*  laugh 
ing  and  jeering  at  you,  and  you  let  your  cities, 
and  gardens,  and  seas  go  floating  in  the  air  — 
unseen,  unsung  —  wonderful  cities,  and  gardens, 
and  seas,  peopled  with  the  realest  of  people. 
...  So  now  you,  and  he,  and  I  are  met  at  the 
portals.  Pass  through  them  with  me.  I  have 
something  there  that  you  think  is  lost.  The 
key  is  the  tiny  regret  for  the  real  things,  the 
little  regret  that  sometimes  seems  to  weight 
3 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


your  spirit  at  twilight,  and  compress  all  life  into 
a  moment's  longing.  Come,  pass  through. 
You  cannot  lose  your  way.  Here  are  your 
cities,  your  gardens,  and  your  April  pools. 
Come  through  the  portals  of  once  upon  a  time, 
but  not  so  very  long  ago  —  today  —  now ! 

She  passes  through  the  soft  blue  curtains,  but 
unless  you  are  willing  to  follow  hert  turn  back 
now.  There  are  only  play-things  here. 


THE  TRIMPLET 


THE  LADY  BOBOLARA 

THE  MARQUESS  OF  STRENATHCO 

THE  LADY  CAR  ATI  NA 

THE  BARON  MILTON-MAURICE 

THE  PERSON  PASSING  BY 

You  (in  the  audience) 

The  Scene  is  a  lonely  'place. 

The  Time  is  partly  then  and  partly  nowadays, 


THE  TRIMPLET 


[When  Memory  has  disappeared  and  the  blue 
curtains  are  quite  still  and  every  one  who  is  old 
and  irrevocably  very  grown-up  has  left  the  the 
atre,  the  Prologue  of  the  Plays  and  the  De 
vice-Bearer  appear  at  either  side  of  the  fore- 
stage.  Then  the  Prologue  speaks. 

PROLOGUE 

She  was  Memory  «  .  .  I  am  the  Prologue  .  .  . 
He  is  the  Device-Bearer  ...  I  am  here  to 
elucidate  — 

YOU 

What  is  elucidate? 

PROLOGUE 

Elucidate  means  to  make  clear,  to  explain  any 
thing  you  do  not  understand.  ...  As  I  said,  I 
am  here  to  elucidate  everything  you  are  not  sure 
about.  I  shall  answer  questions  sometimes,  but 
not  always.  .  .  .  Our  first  play  is  a  dream  play 
and  you  know  what  you  ought  to  think  of  a 
dream.  At  first  it  all  seems  very  strange,  and 
so  many  things  happen  that  you  think  you  can 
not  possibly  remember  all  the  events.  Then 
suddenly  something  snaps  —  and  everything 
becomes  as  clear  as  the  day  which  is  coming  over 
the  sea  with  your  bath  and  your  breakfast 
Now,  you  won't  spoil  a  dream  by  asking  ques 
tions,  will  you? 

[He  claps  his  hands  twice  for  silence  and  with  a 
very  polite  bow  he  and  the  Device-Bearer 
withdraw. 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


When  the  curtains  open  the  stage  is  empty. 
The  lights  which  seemed  indistinct  and  blurred 
at  first,  gradually  increase  until  trees  form 
against  a  luminous  and  misty,  moonlit  sky. 
Presently  a  voice  is  heard  calling  far  away  — 
the  voice  of  The  Person  Passing  By. 

VOICE 

Halloo !     Hoola ! 
[Enter  the  Lady  Caratina. 
She  is  young  and  eager  with  a  note  of  tragic  fear 
in  her  voice. 
CARATINA 

To-day  I  am  one  and  twenty.  To-day  I  come  to 
this  lonely  place  to  learn  my  future.  I  must 
know  how  to  live  happily  ever  after.  My 
mother  says  if  I  call  aloud  a  voice  will  answer 
and  tell  me  how  I  may  live  happily  ever  after. 
Halloo!  Hoola! 

VOICE 

Halloo !     Hoola ! 

CARATINA 

A  voice !  A  voice !  The  voice  of  The  Person 
Passing  By. 

VOICE 

Halloo  I     Hoola ! 

CARATINA 

The  voice  of  The  Person  Passing  By !  ... 
Speak  to  me. 
VOICE 

Halloo !     Hoola ! 

CARATINA 

My  mother,  the  Lady  Bobolara,  bade  me  come 
to  you. 


THE  TRIMPLET 


VOICE 

Halloo!     Hoola!      (The  voice  seems  to  come 
from  one  afloat  in  the  air) 
CARATINA 

Can  you  hear  me? 

VOICE 

Halloo !     Hoola ! 

CARATINA 

Then  these  magic  words  I  say: 

Mullion!     Mizzen! 

The  moon  has  risen 

And  only  one  star  is  near; 

The  mist  has  spread 

From  its  valley  bed, 

Oh,  Passer,  do  you  hear? 
VOICE 

Plucky!     Plenty! 

You're  one  and  twenty  — 

Is  there  something  you  would  know? 

This  is  your  choice, 

To  hear  my  voice, 

Speak  truth  or  naught,  or  go. 
CARATINA 

Belith!     Belath! 
I've  followed  the  path 
That  leads  to  this  lonely  place. 
For  hours  —  full  nine  — 
I've  climbed  to  the  shrine 
Where  I  hope  to  see  your  face. 

VOICE 

You  can  not  see 
The  face  of  me 
Until  the  wild  bird  sings. 
Five  tests  I  make 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


For  pity's  sake. 

For  dreams  and  finger  rings. 

CARATINA 

Mullion!     Mizzen! 
The  moon  has  risen 
And  only  one  .star  is  near  — 
The  mist  has  spread 
From  its  valley  bed, 
Oh,  Passer,  I  am  here. 
VOICE 

Can  you  feel? 

CARATINA 

I  can  feel. 
VOICE 

What  do  you  feel? 

CARATINA 

I  feel  the  chill  of  the  air  and  the  damp  of  the 
mist,  and  the  magic  of  the  moon  —  and  a  great, 
great  love  for  Milton-Maurice. 
VOICE 

You  can  feel.  .  .  .  Can  you  taste?  , 

CARATINA 

I  can  taste. 

VOICE 

What  can  you  taste? 

CARATINA 

I  passed  a  lovely  tree  upon  the  way,  and  I  tasted 
of  the  fruit  that  was  delicate  like  the  honey 
from  a  forget-me-not. 

VOICE 

You  can  taste.  .  .  .   Can  you  hear? 
CARATINA 

I  can  hear1  the  tall  trees  whisper  to  the  little 
winds. 

10 


THE  TRIMPLET 


VOICE 

You  can  hear.  .  .  .  Can  you  see? 

CARATINA 

I  can  see  yon  tall,  tall  tree  touch  on  the  nearest 
star. 
VOICE 

You  can  see.  .  .  .  Can  you  smell? 

CARATINA 

I  can  smell  the  hideous  mould  of  the  dead  leaves 
that  hide  amongst  the  trees. 

VOICE 

You  can  not  smell. 

CARATINA 

1  can  smell  the  death-like  smell  of  mould. 

VOICE 

There  is  a  surpassing  fragrance  of  a  thousand 
trees  that  fills  the  air. 

CARATINA 

I  can  not  smell.  .  .  .  Alas,  I  need  your  help. 

VOICE 

I  can  not  help  until  you  see  my  face. 
CARATINA 

I  can  not  see  your  face  until  the  wild  bird  sings. 
VOICE 

I  have  nothing  more  to  say.     Halloo !     Hoola ! 

(The  voice  is  lost  in  the  distance) 

CARATINA 

Alas,  my  mother  comes  and  I  have  naught  to 
tell.     My  future  lies  in  mystery.     I  am  one  and 
twenty,  and  still  I  do  not  know  how  to  live  hap 
pily  ever  after.      (She  sits  and  weeps) 
[Enter  the  Lady  Bobolara. 
She  is  an  alert,  hard  woman  with  an  undertone 
II 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


of  resignation.  She  has  come  to  the  lonely 
place  because  she  has  always  come,  but  she  feels 
that  her  pilgrimage  is  futile. 

BOBOLARA 

Halloo!     Hoola! 

VOICE 

Halloo!     Hoola! 

BOBOLARA 

Mullion !     Mizzen ! 
The  moon  has  risen 
And  never  a  star  is  near; 
The  mist  has  spread, 
From  its  valley  bed, 
Oh,  Passer,  do  you  hear? 
VOICE 

Plucky!     Plenty! 

You're  three  times  twenty, 

The  days  will  come  from  afar 

Until  you  see 

Yon  tall,  tall  tree  , 

Touch  on  the  nearest  star. 

BOBOLARA 

I  can  not  see 
Yon  tall,  tall  tree 
Touch  on  the  nearest  star. 
VOICE 

One  test  I'll  make 

For  pity's  sake 

For  dreams  and  a  silver  bar. 

BOBOLARA 

Mullion!     Mizzen! 
The  moon  has  risen 
And  never  a  star  is  near; 
The  mist  has  spread 

12 


&  S3 

£  -S 

§  § 

2  I 

H  53 

w  -* 

*  •« 


THE  TRIMPLET 


From  its  valley  bed  — 
Oh,  Passer,  I  am  here. 

VOICE 

Can  you  see? 

BOBOLARA 

I  can  feel,  and  taste,  and  smell,  and  hear,  but  I 
can  not  see  yon  tall,  tall  tree  touch  on  the  near 
est  star. 

CARATINA 

Mother,  I  can  see  yon  tall,  tall  tree  touch  on  the 
nearest  star. 

BOBOLARA 

It  does  not  touch.     I  see  trees  and  hills  and  sky 
—  trees   like  jagged  teeth  bite   into   the   sky. 
(She  has  seen  this  so, of  ten  she  does  not  look) 
VOICE 

See,  your  daughter  weeps. 

BOBOLARA 

Her  eyes  are  in  the  shadow.     I  can  not  see 
them. 
VOICE 

So  parts  of  the  whole,  wide  world  are  always  in 
shadow. 

CARATINA 

Mother,  I  am  going  to  search  for  the  wild  bird 

and  beg  him  to  sing. 
BOBOLARA 

Since  I  was  one  and  twenty  I  have  waited  for 

the  tall,  tall  tree  to  touch  on  the  nearest  star. 

CARATINA 

The  tall  tree  is  touching  on  the  star  now, 
Mother  dear. 

BOBOLARA 

Silly  girl!     The  tree  and  star  are  miles  apart. 
13 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


CARATINA 

Come  here  and  you  will  see. 

BOBOLARA 

Why  should  I  go  there?  They  do  not  touch, 
I  say. 

CARATINA 

But  I  see  them  touch. 

BOBOLARA 

Impudent  girl! 

CARATINA 

I  know  what  I  see. 

BOBOLARA 

The  still,  tall  trees  do  nothing  but  waft  their 
fragrance  in  the  air. 

CARATINA 

I  do  not  smell  a  fragrance.  The  air  is  filled 
with  the  smell  of  mould  that  the  sun  has  never 
warmed. 

BOBOLARA 

I  say  there  is  a  fragrance  from  the  trees. 

CARATINA 

I  shall  not  say  there  is  no  fragrance,  Mother 
dear,  but  until  I  come  face  to  face  with  The 
Person  Passing  By  I  can  not  learn  to  smell  the 
fragrance.  I  shall  find  the  wild  bird,  and  beg 
him  to  sing. 

BOBOLARA 

The  wild  bird  will  never  sing. 

CARATINA 

I  shall  find  the  wild  bird,  Mother,  and  when 
he  sees  my  tears  he  will  sing.  (Caratina  goes 
out) 

BOBOLARA 

He  will  never  sing. 


THE  TRIMPLET 


VOICE 

You  do  not  know,  old  woman.     Let  her  go. 
BOBOLARA  (fiercely;  facing  the  unseen) 

Why  have  you  kept  me  waiting  all  these  years  ? 
VOICE 

I  have  not  kept  you  waiting.     You  have  kept 

yourself  waiting.     You  will  not  see,  and  you 

have  grown  bitter. 

BOBOLARA 

Is  there  naught  else  for  me  to  do  but  wait? 
VOICE 

To-day  your  daughter  is  one  and  twenty.  To 
day  Milton-Maurice  is  one  and  twenty.  He 
comes  to  me  to  learn  his  fate.  What  shall  I 
say? 

BOBOLARA 

He  can  not  wed  my  daughter. 
VOICE 
Why? 

BOBOLARA 

His  father  and  I  have  not  spoken  for  nine  and 
thirty  years. 
VOICE 
Why? 

BOBOLARA 

His  father  injured  my  father. 
VOICE 

Did  he  injure  you? 

BOBOLARA 

No,  but  I  hate  him  because  he  is  his  father's  son. 
VOICE 

Hatred  will  not  heal  the  hurt. 

BOBOLARA 

Oh,  if  I  could  see  you  face  to  face ! 
15 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


VOICE 

Your  eyes  are  blind, 
Your  heart  is  blind, 
Your  life  has  been  a  life  of  ruth; 
Your  eyes  can't  see 
The  truths  that  be 
Until  your  heart  sees  truth. 
BOBOLARA 

Oh,  if  I  could  only  see  you  face  to  face ! 

VOICE 

You  can  not  see  my  face  until  you  smell  the 
fragrance  of  the  old,  old  flower. 

BOBOLARA 

You  can  not  help  until  I  see  your  face  and  I  can 

not  see  your  face  until  I  smell  the  fragrance  of 

the  old,  old  flower. 
VOICE 

I  have  nothing  more  to  say.     Halloo !     Hoola ! 
BOBOLARA  (mechanically) 

I  know  the  old,  old  flower  will  never  bloom ;  yet 

I  shall  continue  to  search  and  to  wait.      (Bobo- 

lara  goes  out) 
VOICE  " 

High  on  the  hills 

By  lakes  and  rills 

She'll  fly  on  shadowed  wings : 

She'll  find  the  flower 

Within  the  hour  — 

Before  the  wild  bird  sings. 

[Enter  the  Baron  Milton-Maurice. 

He  is  young,  confident  and  confiding. 
MILTON-MAURICE 

To-day  I  am  one  and  twenty.     To-day  I  come 
16 


THE  TRIMPLET 


to  this  lonely  place  to  hear  the  story  of  my  fu 
ture.     Halloo !     Hoola  I 

VOICE 

Halloo!     Hoola! 

MILTON-MAURICE 

Are  you  The  Person  Passing  By? 

VOICE 

Halloo !     Hoola ! 

MILTON-MAURICE 

Mullion !     Mizzen ! 
The  moon  is  risen 
And  only  one  star  is  near : 
The  mist  has  spread 
From  its  valley  bed  — 
Oh,  Passer,  do  you  hear? 

VOICE 

Plucky!     Plenty! 

You're  one  and  twenty, 

Is  there  something  you  would  know? 

This  is  your  choice 

To  hear  my  voice 

Speak  truth  or  naught  —  or  go. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

Belith!     Belath! 
I've  followed  the  path 
That  leads  to  this  lonely  place. 
For  hours  —  full  nine  — 
I've  climbed  to  the  shrine 
Where  I  hope  to  see  your  face. 
VOICE 

You  can  not  see 

The  face  of  me 

Until  a  torch  burns  blue : 

One  test  I  make 

17 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


For  pity's  sake, 

For  love,  for  hope,  for  you. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

Mullion !     Mizzen ! 
The  moon  is  risen 
And  only  one  star  is  near: 
The  mist  has  spread 
From  its  valley  bed  — 
Oh,  Passer,  I  am  here. 

VOICE 

Can  you  taste  ? 

MILTON-MAURICE 

I  can  taste. 
VOICE 

What  can  you  taste? 

MILTON-MAURICE 

On  the  way  I  passed  a  tree  where  a  wondrous 
fruit  hung  low.     I  ate  of  it  and  it  had  a  flavor 
like  chaff. 
VOICE 

You  can  not  taste. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

The  taste  was  like  chaff,  I  say. 
VOICE 

There  was  a  delicious  flavor  like  the  honey  from 
a  forget-me-not. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

Alas !     I  can  not  taste  ...  I  need  your  help. 
VOICE 

I  can  not  help  until  you  see  my  face. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

I  can  not  see  your  face  until  a  torch  burns  blue. 

VOICE 

I  have  nothing  more  to  say.     Halloo !     Hoola  1 
18 


THE  TRIMPLET 


MILTON-MAURICE 

Oh,  Caratina,  Caratina,  how  can  we  wed?     Un 
til  I  taste  we  can  not  live  happily  ever  afterward. 
I  can  not  learn  to  taste  until  I  see  his  face.     I 
can  not  see  his  face  until  a  torch  burns  blue. 
[Enter  the  Marquess  of  Strenathco. 
He  is  a  little  man  with  infinite  vanity,  and  the 
assurance  that  comes  with  great  wealth. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

What  is  this  foolishness? 

MILTON-MAURICE 

I  have  come  to  this  lonely  place,  my  Father,  to 
learn  how  to  be  happy  ever  after. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

Silly  boy,  come  home  and  play  a  game  of  nine 
pins  with  me. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

No,  Father,  no.  I  must  first  find  the  torch 
that's  burning  blue. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

Stuff  and  nonsense ! 

MILTON-MAURICE 

And  then  I  shall  find  the  Lady  Bobolara  and  ask 
her  for  the  hand  of  the  lovely  Caratina. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

What!  Marry  the  grand-daughter  of  my 
father's  enemy? 

MILTON-MAURICE 

She  is  not  my  enemy.  Why  should  I  dislike  her 
because  my  grandfather  disliked  her  grand 
father? 

THE    MARQUESS    OF   STRENATHCO 

Milton-Maurice,  my  son,  have  you  no  family 
pride?  Give  up  this  mad  whim  and  come 

19 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


home.     You  can  not  wed  the  Lady  Caratina. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

My  Father,  I  am  going  to  live  happily  ever 
after ! 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

See  how  happy  I  am !     I  am  the  richest  man  in 
all  the  world. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

But  you  are  not  happy. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

Why? 

MILTON-MAURICE 

You  are  not  happy  because  the  Lady  Bobolara  is 
richer  than  you  are. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF    STRENATHCO 

For  that  I  can  not  forgive  her !     What  right  has 
she  to  be  richer  than  I  am? 

VOICE 

Mildew!     Moldew! 

Let  nothing  hold  you 

From  your  way,  oh,  Milton-Maurice 

Within  the  hour 

An  old,  old  flower 

Will  help  bring  lasting  peace. 

THE    MARQUESS   OF    STRENATHCO 

I  think  I  hear  a  voice.     Who  speaks? 

MILTON-MAURICE 

It  is  The  Person  Passing  By. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF    STRENATHCO 

Where  is  he? 

MILTON-MAURICE 

No  one  knows;  we  seek,  and  seek  to  see  his  face. 

THE    MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

What  nonsense  is  this  ? 
20 


THE  TRIMPLET 


VOICE 

Halloo !     Hoola ! 

THE  MARQUESS  OF  STRENATHCO  (as  one  who  hears 
through  a  mist) 
Who  speaks? 

VOICE 

Halloo !     Hoola ! 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

If  you  are  here  show  me  your  face. 
VOICE 

Belith!     Belath! 

Old  man  of  wrath 

You'll  never  see  my  face 

Until  you  hear 

A  bird  song  clear 

In  this  moonlit,  lonely  place. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

What  trick  is  this  ? 

MILTON-MAURICE 

Oh,  perfect  bliss 

That  my  father  must  learn  to  hear. 

THE    MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

My  ears  are  good 

For  any  mood 

Except  a  song  of  cheer. 

VOICE 

Bingle !     Bungle ! 

Life's  a  jungle 

For  a  stern,  old  man  like  you. 

There's  just  one  thing: 

Hear  the  wild  bird  sing 

And  learn  to  dance  in  the  dew. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

Dance  in  the  dew! 

21 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


MILTON-MAURICE 

A  man  like  you ! 
VOICE 

While  the  wild  bird  sings  the  tune, 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

With  bitter  word 
I'll  stone  the  bird 
By  the  light  of  the  silver  moon. 

VOICE 

Ah,  you  can  be 

Like  him  and  me 

If  you  but  use  your  eyes  to  see. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

My  pride  is  based 
On  a  perfect  taste, 
And  none  can  smell  like  me. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

But  he  can't  hear 

The  bird  song  clear 

That  floats  from  this  lonely  place 

Like  melodious  light 

On  a  moonlit  night  — 

VOICE 

Then  he  can  not  see  my  face. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

Now  why  should  I 

Wish  to  descry 

The  features  of  fairy  folk? 

You  can't  engage 

To  lessen  my  age ; 

My  wrinkles  you  can't  revoke. 

VOICE 

Forget  your  fears, 
Forget  the  years, 

22 


THE  TRIMPLET 


Forget  all  else  but  this; 

You'll  have  to  hear 

The  bird-song  clear 

Or  give  up  all  hope  of  bliss. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

I've  tried  to  hear 

The  bird-song  clear, 

But  the  song  is  harsh,  I  say  — - 

I  hate  the  notes 

From  feathered  throats, 

I  hate  the  trill  and  roundelay. 

VOICE 

You'll  have  to  thrill 

To  the  bird-voice  trill  — 

You  must  learn  to  love  the  song; 

Else  with  open  eyes 

You'll  search  the  skies 

But  find  that  all  life  is  wrong. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

I  can't,  I  say. 
VOICE 

Then  have  your  way ! 

I  spake  and  you  will  not  heed. 

THE   MARQUESS    OF    STRENATHCO 

The  sound  I  hate. 
VOICE 

Accept  your  fate  .  .  . 
THE  MARQUESS  OF  STRENATHCO  (after  a  terrible 

struggle  with  his  vanity  and  his  assurance) 

O,  Passer,  your  help  I  need. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

Father  1     You  ask  for  help ! 

VOICE 

Kelee!     Keloy! 

23 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


He  asks  for  joy 

He's  throttled  his  silly  pride ! 

When  he  tastes  the  fruit 

With  the  succulent  root 

I'll  reveal  myself  at  his  side. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

Bezit!     Bezoot! 
Please  seek  the  fruit 
And  learn  the  charm  of  laughter  — 
THE  MARQUESS  OF  STRENATHCO  (eagerly) 
We'll  heed  the  voice 
And  make  the  choice  — 

MILTON-MAURICE 

To  live  happily  ever  after. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

Where  is  the  fruit 
With  the  succulent  root? 

MILTON-MAURICE 

I  passed  it  on  the  way  here. 
The  land  I'll  search 
Till  I  find  the  torch  — 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

Oh,  Passer,  will  you  stay  here? 

MILTON-MAURICE 

I'll  return  to  you 

With  the  will  to  do 

And  I'll  bring  the  flame  that's  burning  blue. 

VOICE 

Me-la!     Me-lo! 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

Let's  go ! 

MILTON-MAURICE 

Let's  go  1 

24 


THE  TRIMPLET 


VOICE 

And  the  search  you'll  never  rue. 
[The   Marquess    of   Strenathco    and   Milton- 
Maurice  rush  out. 
VOICE 

O'er  hill  and  hollow 
Good  luck  will  follow 
And  everything's  coming  out  right; 
When  they  return 
They'll  be  ready  to  learn 
A  way  to  see  the  light. 
[Enter  Caratina. 

She  carries  a  wondrous  fruit  in  her  hands. 
CARATINA  (calling) 

Mother,  Mother,  I've  searched  high  and  low 

for  the  bird,  but  I  found  only  this  lovely  fruit. 

Mother ! 

[Enter  Bobolara. 

Caratina  hides  the  fruit  behind  her. 

Bobolara  carries  a  torch  with  a  blue  flame. 

BOBOLARA 

Woe  is  me !  I  have  hunted  everywhere  for  the 
old,  old  flower,  and  I  found  only  this  torch  that 
burns  blue. 

[Enter  Milton-Maurice. 
Bobolara  hides  the  torch  behind  her  back. 

Milton-Maurice  carries  a  large  flower  that  is 
closed. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

I  found  no  torch,  but  in  my  path  there  bloomed 
a  flower.  Ah,  Caratina —  (He  hides  the 
flower  behind  him) 

25 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


BOBOLARA 

You  can  not  wed  my  daughter  1 

[All  three,  and  later  the  Marquess  of  Stren- 

athcot  seem  to  be  in  a  haze.     Everyone  is  of, 

and  for  himself  alone. 

Enter  the  Marquess  of  Strenathco. 

He  carries  a  marvelous  bird  on  his  hand. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

I  could  not  find  the  fruit  but  I  have  found  a 

bird:  he  is  mute. 
BOBOLARA  (to  Milton-Maurice) 

You  can  not  wed  my  daughter ! 
THE  MARQUESS  OF  STRENATHCO  (hiding  the  bird 

behind  him) 

What? 

BOBOLARA 

Caratina,  tell  Milton-Maurice  that  I  did  not 
address  his  father. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

My  son  can  not  wed  your  daughter?  Indeed 
he  can  not  wed  your  daughter  1 

VOICE 

Hush !     End  this  strife 

As  you  love  life 

And  try  to  live  in  peace : 

Just  look  about 

And  you'll  find  out 

That  wonders  never  cease  1 

CARATINA 

What  does  he  mean? 

BOBOLARA 

There  is  no  meaning.  For  nine  and  thirty 
years  he  has  promised  something,  but  I  can  not 
see  any  hope. 

26 


THE  TRIMPLET 


VOICE 

Look  down !  look  up ! 
The  bitter  cup 

Is  almost  drained  to  the  leas; 
Let  each  one  try 
To  face  the  sky 

And  see  what  each  one  sees.      (With  strange 
obedience  all  four  face  the  sky) 
THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

Yon  tall,  tall  tree  touches  the  nearest  star  1 

BOBOLARA 

Absurd ! 

VOICE 

Oh,  clouds  and  rifts  — 

You  all  bear  gifts 

That  you  hide  behind  your  backs; 

Put  out  your  hands 

To  my  commands 

Or  shiver  and  shake  in  your  tracks. 

[They  put  out  their  hands,  each  one  disclosing 

what  another  has  sought. 

BOBOLARA 

I  smell  the  breath  of  an  old,  old  flower  —  Oh, 
Passer,  are  you  here? 

MILTON-MAURICE 

I  see  the  blue  of  a  burning  torch  —  Oh,  Passer, 
are  you  here? 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

I  taste  the  fruit  with  the  succulent  root  —  Oh, 
Passer,  are  you  here? 

CARATINA 

I   hear   the   song  the   wild  bird  sings  —  Oh, 
Passer,  are  you  here? 
27 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


[The  light  begins  to  fade  from  the  world  and 
strange  music  fills  the  air. 
VOICE 

From  North  and  South 

From  source  and  mouth 

I  come  through  the  worlds  to  you  — • 

From  East  and  West, 

From  vale  and  crest, 

I'm  bringing  a  message  true. 

River  and  brook 

Learn  to  look 

At  persons  passing  by  — 

Oh,  use  your  ears 

And  use  your  tears 

For  a  person  passing  by. 

[There  is  a  long,  still  blackness  and  when  the 

light  again  appears  The  Person  Passing  By  is 

seen  beside  the  four. 
BOBOLARA  (fearfully) 

Caratina,  is  he  there?     I  dare  not  look. 
CARATINA   (in  wonder.     To  her  he  seems  calm 

and  tender  and  strong) 

He  is  there ! 

[They  all  look. 
BOBOLARA 

Why,  he  is  like  any  other  man. 

THE    PERSON   PASSING   BY 

You  see  that,  and  yet  you  can  not  see  yon  tall, 
tall  tree  touch  on  the  nearest  star ! 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

This  man  has  played  a  trick  on  us.  (To  the 
Marquess  of  Strenathco,  too,  he  is  like  any 
other  man) 

28 


THE  TRIMPLET 


THE    PERSON   PASSING   BY 

When  I  could  not  be  seen  you  listened  to  me  and 
feared  me.     Now  that  I  am  here  you  doubt  me. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

I  doubt  you,  but  I  shall  be  fair  to  you.     I  shall 
test  you. 

[A  faint,  golden  light  illumines  the  face  of  The 
Person  Passing  By. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

Father!     Father! 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

I  shall  test  him!      (Age  has  seen  wonder  so 
long  that  even  wonder  is  a  commonplace) 
CARATINA 

What  shall  we  do  to  live  happily  ever  after? 
[The  Person  Passing  By  smiles  gently  at  Car  a- 
tina.     The  smile  seems  to  awaken  a  strange 
tenderness  in  Bobolara. 
BOBOLARA 

I  have  so  little  time  to  live.     Tell  me  how  to  be 
happy. 

[The  Person  Passing  By  smiles  gently  at  her 
and  at  Milton-Maurice   and  pityingly   at   the 
Marquess  of  Strenathco. 
THE   PERSON   PASSING  BY 

You  do  not  understand. 
(To  Caratina) 

You  can  not  smell  a  pleasant  fragrance; 
(To  Milton-Maurice) 
You  can  not  taste  a  delicate  flavor ; 
(To  Bobolara) 

You  can  not  see  a  glorious  sight; 
( To  the  Marquess  of  Strenathco) 
You  can  not  hear  a  lovely  sound. 
29 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


There  is  a  shadow  over  your  eyes. 

And  over  your  tongue, 

And  over  your  nose, 

And  over  your  ears. 

Your  defects  are  all  different;  and  yet  to  live 

happily  ever  after,  you  and  all  the  world  need 

the  same  thing. 

ALL 

And  what  do  we  need? 

THE    PERSON   PASSING   BY 

You  need  a  trimplet. 

THE  MARQUESS  OF  STRENATHCO    (remembering 
his  importance) 
Oh,  yes,  I  never  thought  of  that. 

THE    PERSON    PASSING   BY 

You  know  what  a  trimplet  is  then? 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

Do  you? 

THE    PERSON   PASSING   BY 

Do  you  know  what  a  trimplet  is  ? 

THE   MARQUESS   OF    STRENATHCO 

I  know  if  you  know. 

THE    PERSON   PASSING   BY 

Perhaps  you  do  —  then  you'll  tell  the  rest;  I'll 
stand  your  test.  Remember  in  a  trimplet  lies 
all  happiness. 

CARATINA 

Are  there  enough  trimplets  for  all  of  us? 

THE    PERSON    PASSING   BY 

One  trimplet  is  enough  for  all  of  you. 

CARATINA 

Where  is  the  trimplet? 

THE    PERSON   PASSING   BY 

It  might  be  here,  or  there,  or  anywhere;  but 
30 


THE  TRIMPLET 


sometimes  you  have  to  have  patience  and  wait. 

BOBOLARA 

Patience  and  wait!  I  have  waited  nine  and 
thirty  years ! 

[The  golden  light  on  the  face  of  The  Person 
Passing  By  has  become  stronger  until  it  has 
become  an  overpowering  radiance. 

THE    PERSON   PASSING   BY 

You  have  been  stubborn  and  impatient. 

BOBOLARA 

Stubborn  and  impatient!  My  life  is  almost  at 
an  end.  I  must  hurry. 

THE    PERSON   PASSING   BY 

Why  hurry? —  Heaven  is  full  of  days  and 
they  are  all  coming  this  way. 

BOBOLARA 

They  are  nearly  all  gone  for  me. 

THE    PERSON   PASSING   BY 

There  will  always  be  more  and  more  and  more 

to  come. 

[The  Person  Passing  By  moves,  as  if  to  go. 

THE   MARQUESS    OF   STRENATHCO 

The  trimplet!     I  can't  remember  its  color. 

THE    PERSON   PASSING   BY 

Well,  I'll  tell  you  this :  —  a  trimplet  can  rest  in 
your  hand  but  you  can  not  hold  it.  It  can  lie 
upon  your  fingers  but  it  can  not  hold  them. 
Good-bye.  I'm  passing  on.  Halloo !  Hoola ! 
[The  Person  Passing  By  has  disappeared  in  the 
gathered  gloom.  .  .  .  It  brightens. 
BOBOLARA 

What  is  a  trimplet? 

31 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


THE    MARQUESS    OF    STRENATHCO 

She  speaks  to  me  for  the  first  time  in  nine  and 

thirty  years. 

[A  man  of  affairs  does  not  always  speak  to  the 

point. 

BOBOLARA 

What  is  a  trimplet? 
THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

Why  it's  a  — 

BOBOLARA 

What  is  it?     Speak! 

THE   MARQUESS    OF    STRENATHCO 

I  can  not  remember  its  color. 

BOBOLARA 

What  is  it? 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

Woman,  I  do  not  know ! 
ALL 

What!     You  do  not  know? 

THE   MARQUESS    OF    STRENATHCO 

I  couldn't  tell  him  I  didn't  know.     He  would 
think  me  a  fool. 

CARATINA 

Oh,  and  I  can  not  live  happily  ever  after. 

BOBOLARA 

Madman! 

MILTON-MAURICE 

Have  patience,  I  shall  ask.     Halloo !     Hoola ! 
VOICE 

I  have  nothing  more  to  say.     Halloo !     Hoola ! 

MILTON-MAURICE 

I  want  to  ask  just  one  question. 

BOBOLARA 

One  question  only. 

3* 


THE  TRIMPLET 


VOICE 

Halloo !     Hoola ! 

CARATINA 

Please!     Please!     To-day     I     am     one     and 
twenty ! 

VOICE 

Halloo!     Hoola! 

\The  Marquess  of  Strenathco  has  been  search 
ing  for  something. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

Come  back !     Come  back ! 
VOICE 

Halloo!     Hoola!      (He  laughs  a  laugh  that 

seems  to  roll  through  the  skies) 
BOBOLARA 

Now  you've  done  it!     You  —  with  your  pride 
and  your  deafness ! 

MILTON-MAURICE 

Well,  there's  only  one  thing  to  do :  hunt  for  the 

trimplet. 
CARATINA 

I  know  it  isn't  this  torch. 
VOICE 

Halloo!     Hoola! 

MILTON-MAURICE 

It  isn't  this  wild  bird  song. 
VOICE 
Halloo!     Hoola! 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

I  wish  I  knew  its  color. 

BOBOLARA 

Stupid!     That     wouldn't     help.     Everything 

here  is  gloom. 

\The  ray  of  golden  light  appears  again. 

33- 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


CARATINA 

What  is  that  golden  light? 

MILTON-MAURICE 

Perhaps   a  sunbeam  has  slipped  through  the 
moon. 

VOICE 

Halloo!     Hoola! 

BOBOLARA 

I  have  hunted  everywhere. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

Let's  sit  down  and  think. 

[They  all  sit  down  and  think.     They  are  a 

ludicrous  lot. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

We  might  as  well  give  up. 

BOBOLARA 

No,  I  have  been  face  to  face  with  The  Person 
Passing  By.     I  shall  stay  here  to  the  end. 

YOU  (in  the  audience) 

Why  don't  you  look  out  here? 

THE    MARQUESS    OF    STRENATHCO 

Who  are  you,  sir? 

YOU 

I  live  in  nowadays;  but  I  think  I  can  help  you 

find  the  trimplet. 
BOBOLARA 

Impertinent! 

CARATINA 

He  might  as  well  try,  Mother  dear. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

He  can't  do  worse  than  fail. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF    STRENATHCO 

All  right,  we're  coming. 
34 


THE  TRIMPLET 


YOU 

It  can't  be  this  handkerchief  —  no,  for  I  can 
hold  that. 
CARATINA  (now  in  the  audience) 

It's  not  this  flower. 

THE  MARQUESS  OF  STRENATHCO  (now  in  the  au 
dience) 
Perhaps  it's  the  light  of  this  little  girl's  eyes. 

BOBOLARA 

Look  under  the  chair. 
MILTON-MAURICE  (far  out  in  the  audience) 
It's  not  up  here. 

BOBOLARA   (to  Y  ou) 

See,  you  silly  person,  you  have  dragged  us  into 
nowadays  to  no  purpose. 

THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

I'm  going  back. 
YOU 

I'll  go  with  you. 
ALL 

What? 

YOU 

Perhaps  I  can  find  it  up  there. 
THE   MARQUESS   OF    STRENATHCO 

You  could  find  where  we  had  failed.     Ha ! 
Ha! 

YOU 

I'm  going  anyway. 

[You  starts  for  the  stage,  but  Milton-Maurice 

intercepts  him. 
vlILTON-MAURICE 

Well,  promise  if  you  come  into  the  play  you 
won't  wed  the  lovely  Caratina. 

35 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


YOU 

I  don't  want  to  wed  any  one  yet.     I  want  to  find 
the  trimplet. 

[You  runs  on  to  the  stage  followed  by  the 
others.  The  ray  of  golden  light  falls  upon  his 
hand.  He  tests  it.  It  rests  in  his  hand  but  he 
can  not  hold  it.  It  lies  upon  his  fingers  but  it 
can  not  hold  them. 
YOU  (triumphantly) 

The  trimplet !     I  know  what  a  trimplet  is ! 
THE    MARQUESS   OF    STRENATHCO 

What  is  it? 
YOU 

A  trimplet  is  the  hole  a  sunbeam  makes  in  a 
shadow. 
VOICE 

Halloo !     Hoola ! 

A  light  —  a  light 

Shines  in  the  night 

And  fills  their  souls  with  splendor ! 

STRENATHCO 

How  can  a  trimplet  cure  my  deafness? 

VOICE 

Move  to  the  right, 
Stand  in  the  light, 
And  fill  your  souls  with  splendor. 
[Caratina  walks  with  mingled  hope  and  fear  to 
the  right  of  the  golden  ray  and  then  steps  into 
the    light.     Bobolara    follows,    then    Milton- 
Maurice,  then  Strenathco.     Each  is  affected  to 
the  depths  of  his  soul  as  The  Person  Passing  By 
speaks  the  word  that  restores  his  lost  sense. 
VOICE 

Smell  ...  See  ...  Taste  .  .  .  Hear  .  .  . 
3.6 


THE  TRIMPLET 


[As  he  commands  the  inanimate  things  obey. 
The  trees  sigh,  the  torch  glows,  the  flower  opens 
and  the  bird  sings. 

Blow  .  .  .  Glow  .  .  .  Burst  .  .  .  Sing  .  .  . 
[  Then  with  the  triumph  of  all  the  world  — 
Love  is  far  —  love  is  near  — 
Love  is  everything. 
THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

I  hear  the  wild  bird's  song. 

CARATINA 

I  smell  the  fragrance  of  a  thousand  trees. 

MILTON-MAURICE 

I  taste  the  flavor  of  the  honey  of  forget-me- 
nots. 

BOBOLARA 

I  see  yon  tall,  tall  tree  touch  on  the  nearest 

star  I    (then   to   the  Marquess   of  Strenathco) 

Neighbor,  Heaven  has  sent  a  new  day. 

[There  is  a  pause. 

Then     You,     who     has     stepped     aside     and 

watched  the  play  with  breathless  interest,  now 

takes  a  hand. 
YOU  (to  Caratina  and  Milton-Maurice) 

Now,  you  two  must  wed  and  live  happily  ever 
after  ...  If  you  don't  I  won't  like  the  play 
very  much.  I'm  not  sure  that  I  like  it  anyway, 
because  heaven  knows  how  long  it  would  have 
kept  up  if  I  hadn't  helped  you  find  the  trimplet. 
VOICE 

The  play's  near  done 

And  every  one 

Has  learned  a  simple  lesson. 

YOU 

I  don't  think  it  fair  to  try  to  teach  us  a  lesson 
37 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


every  time  you  tell  us  a  story.     I  like  a  play 
that  is  a  play.     If  this  had  been  a  good  play  — 
I  couldn't  have  got  into  it. 
(To  the  audience)     Could  I? 
THE    MARQUESS   OF    STRENATHCO 

Well,  we  did  our  very  best  and  I  think  it's  a 
pretty  good  play,  and  so  does  the  author. 
Now  you  go  on  out  there.  The  play  isn't 
ended  yet. 

YOU 

It  must  have  a  pretty  ending,  mind  you. 
[You  returns  to  his  seat. 
THE   MARQUESS   OF   STRENATHCO 

Caratina,  here  is  the  hand  of  my  son,  the  Baron 

Milton-Maurice. 

\He  turns  to  You  for  approval. 
YOU  (approving  but  adding  a  final  touch) 

You  must  give  him  a  dowry. 
THE  MARQUESS  OF  STRENATHCO 

I  give  him  all  my  land  that  lies  between  the  ends 

of  the  rainbow. 

[A  rainbow  forms  in  the  sky. 

VOICE 

In  the  valley,  you 

Will  dance  in  the  dew 

While  the  wild  bird  sings  the  tune. 

For  what  is  so  rare 

As  a  rainbow  there 

Afloat  in  the  light  of  the  moon? 

To  help  the  tale 

He  gives  a  vale 

That  to  the  rainbow  bends, 

And  we  are  told 

That  pots  of  gold 

38 


THE  TRIMPLET 


Lie  at  the  rainbow  ends. 
YOU   (after  waiting  a  moment  for  the  complete 

conclusion  of  the  story) 

You  ought  to  say  something,  Babalora. 
THE   MARQUESS    OF   STRENATHCO 

Her  name  is  not  Babalora  —  it's  Bobolara. 

BOBOLARA 

Well,  we've  certainly  worked  hard  enough  for 
you  to  know  our  names  at  least. 

CARATINA 

But  he's  quite  right,  Mother;  you  ought  to  say 
something. 
YOU 

Yes,  you  ought  to  say  something  —  whether  we 
know  your  name  or  not. 
BOBOLARA 

Quite  right,  I  ought.     I  shall  give  to  Caratina 

the  castle  of  jade  in  the  garden  where  the  gold 

flowers  blow.      (To  Caratina)      And  you  shall 

live  there  happily  ever  after. 
YOU  (satisfied) 

For  Heaven  is  full  of  days  and  they're  all  com 
ing  this  way. 
VOICE 

Warm  sun,  blue  sky, 

If  you  only  try 

You'll  be  a  person  passing  by, 

Who  knows  the  why 

Of  the  sibilant  sigh  — 

Oh,  for  a  person  passing  bv! 

Halloo!     Hoola! 

Halloo  1     Hoola ! 

(The  Curtains  Close) 


39 


NEVERTHELESS 


A  GIRL  ' 

A  BOY 

A  BURGLAR 

The  Scene  is  a  room  just  upstairs. 

The  Time  is  last  night  —  or  to-night,  perhaps. 


NEVERTHELESS 


PROLOGUE 

Our  next  play  is  an  interlude  before  the  cur 
tains.  You  may  sleep  during  an  interlude,  but 
you  mustn't  snore  or  have  the  nightmare  be 
cause  that  would  be  very  discourteous  to  the 
author  and  very  discouraging  to  us.  We  can 
not  live  if  you  do  not  like  us,  and  you  can  not 
like  us  if  you  do  not  keep  awake. 
[After  the  Prologue  has  bowed  the  Device- 
Bearer  brings  two  chairs,  a  stool,  a  table,  a  lamp 
and  places  them  on  the  forestage.  If  you  are 
not  a  very  grown-up  you  know  immediately  that 
you  are  in  a  room  that  belongs  to  very  young 
people. 

[  The  Boy  enters  carrying  a  book.  He  is  angry. 
He  looks  around  to  see  if  any  one  is  looking  and 
then  goes  to  the  table  and  tries  to  remove  some 
money  from  a  small  bank  that  has  two  locks; 
but  he  can't  find  the  keys. 
[As  he  is  shaking  it  violently  in  an  attempt  to 
force  itt  the  Girl  enters. 

GIRL 

Billie! 

BOY 

I  will  force  it! 

GIRL 

You  made  a  compact  with  me. 
43 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


BOY 

Don't  use   words   like   that  —  I   hate   words. 
(He  continues  to  try  to  force  the  bank) 
GIRL 

It's  a  miserable  shame,  Billie  Cleves! 

BOY 

Now,  Lou,  don't  use  any  more  words  on  me. 
I  won't  stand  it. 

GIRL 

Well,  what  shall  I  say? 
BOY 

Say  dirty  shame. 

GIRL 

Billie ! 

BOY 

I  don't  care.  I'm  tired  of  being  corrected  all 
the  time.  When  I'm  old  enough  to  paddle  my 
own  canoe,  I'm  going  to  murder  grammar  all 
the  time.  I'm  going  to  use  short  words  and  I 
hope  I'll  say  I  seen  and  I  would  have  went. 

GIRL 

Billie  Cleves! 

BOY 

And,  if  I  can  get  this  bank  open,  I'll  go  away 
forever  to-night  and  I'll  talk  just  as  I  please. 

GIRL 

My,  Billie !     You  are  angry ! 
BOY 

Angry!     I'm    mad!     I'm    awful   mad!     (He 

shakes  the  bank  terrifically) 
GIRL 

You'll  break  it. 

BOY 

I  don't  care.     I'm  going  to  bust  it — • 


NEVERTHELESS 


GIRL 

Billie,  Mother  wouldn't  like  that  word  at  all. 
BOY 

I  don't  care.     I'm  going  to  bu  —  break  it  open 

and    then    I'm    going    to    leave    home    for 

ever. 

(He  puts  it  on  the  floor  and  starts  to  trample 

^ 
GIRL 

Billie    Cleves,    don't  you   dare!     That's   half 

mine.     And  you  can't  open  it  unless  we  both 

agree. 
BOY 

Who  said  so? 

GIRL 

Why,  it  was  our  compact. 
BOY 

If  you  were  fourteen  years  old,  Louise  Cleves, 
and  your  mother  punished  you  for  speaking  bad 
English  you'd  forget  all  about  compacts. 

GIRL 

No,  I  wouldn't. 
BOY 

Yes,  you  would. 

GIRL 

No,  I  wouldn't. 

BOY 

You  don't  know  what  you'd  do;  you're  not  four 

teen  and  you're  not  a  boy. 
GIRL 

I  wouldn't  break  a  compact  if  I  were  a  hundred 

and  fourteen. 
BOY 

Now,  Lou,  listen. 

45 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


GIRL 

I  don't  want  to  listen. 
BOY  4 

Just  put  yourself  in  my  place. 

GIRL 

Billie  Cleves,  we  agreed  never,  never  to  open 
that  bank  until  we  were  in  need  of  food  and 
clothing. 
BOY 

Well,  I'm  in  need,  Lou. 

GIRL 

No,  you're  not;  Father  and  Mother  give  you 
all  the  food  and  clothes  you  want. 
BOY 

But  I'm  going  to  run  away  forever  and  go  to 
Honolulu  or  Texas. 

GIRL 

No,  you're  not. 
BOY 

I  am. 

GIRL 

Well,  Billie,  you  deserved  to  be  corrected. 
BOY 

All  I  said  was,  "  Jim's  a  rotten  rider."     And  he 
is. 

GIRL 

Well,  that  wasn't  nice. 
BOY  (exasperated  at  not  being  able  to  open  the 

bank) 

Lou,  where  is  my  key? 
GIRL 

I  put  it  away. 

BOY 

-  Where? 

46 


NEVERTHELESS 


GIRL 

Our  compact  was  for  me  to  take  the  key  to  your 
blue  lock  and  hide  it,  and  you  were  to  take  the 
key  to  my  pink  lock  and  hide  it  so  we  couldn't 
fall  into  temptation. 
BOY 

I'll  pick  the  locks  like  a  burglar. 

GIRL 

You  can't.  They're  both  pick-proof.  And 
there's  only  one  key  in  all  the  whole  wide  world 
for  each  lock. 

BOY 

I'll  get  your  key  and  open  your  lock. 

GIRL 

My  key  won't  open  your  lock. 

BOY 

I  can't  find  yours  where  I  hid  it. 

GIRL 

I  found  it  and  hid  it  again. 
BOY 

Where  is  it? 

GIRL 

I  don't  think  I  ought  to  tell  you,  Billie,  I'm 
afraid  you'll  fall  into  temptation. 

BOY 

How  about  you? 

GIRL 

Boys  are  more  easily  tempted  than  women. 

BOY 

H-m! 

GIRL 

Because  they  get  out  more. 
BOY 

I'll  throw  it  and  break  it. 
47i 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


•GIRL 

Now,  Billie,  don't  be  rash. 
BOY 

I  don't  care. 

GIRL 

Father'll  hear  you. 

BOY 

Father  won't  hear  me  much  longer  about  this 
house. 

GIRL 

Please,  Billie,  read  your  book. 

BOY 

I  won't  do  it,  I  won't.     I'm  sick  of  goody-goody 
books. 

GIRL 

What  did  mother  give  you  to  read? 
BOY  (sullenly) 
There  it  is. 

GIRL 

"  The  Narrow  Path!  "     Why,  she  sent  me  up 
here  to  read  that,  too. 

BOY 

What  for? 

GIRL 

I  said  "  he  don't "  instead  of  "  he  doesn't." 

BOY 

Just  after  I  said  it? 

GIRL 

Yes. 

BOY 

You  are  a  goose. 

GIRL 

But  I  don't  get  angry  like  you  do. 

48 


NEVERTHELESS 


BOY 

You're  not  as  old  as  I  am.  Other  boys  of  my 
age  do  pretty  much  as  they  please. 

GIRL 

Well,  here  we  are.  There's  no  use  quarrelling, 
because  it's  mother's  plan  to  make  us  read  a  fine 
book  whenever  we  make  mistakes  in  grammar. 
And  you  know  mother's  plans !  (She  opens  the 
book)  Oh,  dear,  no  pictures!  .  .  .  Let's 
hurry  up. 

BOY 

I  won't  do  it. 

GIRL 

Come  on,  Billie,  and  get  it  over  with. 

BOY 

Give  me  the  keys  or  I'll  break  —  I'll  bust  it 
GIRL 

I  won't  give  you  the  keys  and  you  won't  break 
it  —  William  Cleves,  if  you  don't  live  up  to  our 
compact,  I'll  not  have  anything  more  to  do  with 
you. 

BOY 

I  don't  care.      (He  throws  the  bank  violently) 

GIRL 

Billie !  (She  pounces  upon  the  bank  and  bursts 
into  tears) 

GIRL 

I  never  thought  you'd  do  it. 

{The  Boy  moves  about  uneasily. 
never  thought  you'd  do  it.      (She  weeps  tor- 
rentially) 

BOY 

Now,  Lou  — 

49 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


GIRL 

You  broke  our  compact  and  tried  to  destroy  our 
bank. 
BOY  (defiantly) 

I  tried  to  bust  it  —  and  I  hope  I  did. 

GIRL 

Billie  Cleves !  —  Well,  you  didn't  even  nick 
it.  (She  takes  up  the  book  after  carefully  plac 
ing  the  bank  so  that  the  Boy  carit  get  it) 

BOY 

Lou,  won't  you  lend  me  the  keys  a  moment? 
GIRL  (relentlessly) 
You  broke  a  compact. 

*BOY 

Please,  Lou. 

GIRL 

I  have  my  reading  to  do. 

BOY 

I'm  going  to  go  away  —  forever  —  Lou ! 


(BOY  (fiercely) 

I  want  my  money! 

GIRL 

It's  our  money.     And  I'm  the  guardian. 

BOY 

All  right.  .  .  .  Good-bye. 

GIRL 

Good-bye.  (Reading)  'The  Narrow  Path 
is  very  steep  and  straight.  It  leads  to  a  land 
of  gold  and  it  is  not  easy  to  negotiate  because 
Heaven  thinks  it  is  best  for  people^  to  climb  for 
what  they  want.  Nevertheless  — " 


NEVERTHELESS 


BOY 

Are  you  going  to  give  me  the  money  to  run 
away  with  ? 

GIRL 

No. 

BOY 

Good-bye. 
GIRL 

A  compact  is  binding  to  both  parties,  father 
says. 

BOY 

Good-bye. 

GIRL 

Good-bye.     (Reading]     Nevertheless  —  never 
theless —  (She  begins  to  giggle  deliriously) 

BOY 

What's  funny,  Lou? 

GIRL 

Come  here  and  look,  Billie. 

[The  Boy  drags  himself  to  the  book. 

BOY 
What? 

GIRL 

This  word. 

BOY 

Never  —  the  —  less.     It's  just  like  any  other 
word. 

GIRL 

No,  it  isn't.     Steep  and  straight  and  the  all  look 

like  something.     But  this  is  just  funny. 
BOY 

Nevertheless. 

[The  Girl  goes  off  into  gales  of  laughter. 

5.1 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


BOY.      (Reading  further  and  turning  the  page) 
Here  it  is  agarn.      (He  laughs) 

GIRL 

Where? 

BOY 

Here.      (Turning  back) 

GIRL 

Neverthe  —  (turning  the  page  and  going  into 
another  paroxysm  of  laughter  as  she  finds  the 
rest  of  the  word  on  the  next  page)  —  less. 

BOY 

It  is  funny-looking  ! 

GIRL 

What  does  it  mean? 
BOY 

I'll  look  in  the  dictionary. 


I  know  what  it  means  in  a  way,  but  I  can't  ex 
plain  it  — 
BOY 

So  do  I.      (He  goes  to  the  dictionary) 


Never  —  the  —  less.  (She  looks  up  and  sees 
that  the  Boy  is  busy.  She  looks  around  cau 
tiously,  then  takes  up  the  bank  and  hides  it.  As 
she  hears  the  Boy  coming  back,  she  resumes  her 
seat  and  the  book) 

BOY 

It  means  notwithstanding,  yet,  however.  .  .  . 

GIRL 

Dictionaries  never  tell  you  the  real,  honest,  true, 
live  meaning,  do  they,  Billie? 
BOY  (fascinated) 
Never  —  the  —  less. 

5* 


'  'NEVERTHELESS" 
The  Girl  and  Boy  encounter  a  strange  word 


NEVERTHELESS 


GIRL 

It's  three  words  all  huddled  together.      (She 

pictures  it  on  her  fingers) 
BOY  (counting  the  words  on  his  fingers) 

Never  —  the  —  less. 
GIRL 

How  did  they  come  together  ? 
BOY  (losing  himself  in  the  puzzle) 

I  don't  know. 
GIRL 

Let's  ask  mother. 
BOY   (remembering  his  anger) 

No,  I  won't. 

GIRL 

I  will. 
BOY 

Let's  be  independent,  Lou.     I  don't  like  to  ask 

favors  when  I'm  punished. 
GIRL 

Well,  I'm  being  punished,  too;  but  I  want  to 

know  all  about  this  funny  word. 
BOY 

Let's  try  some  other  way. 

GIRL 

I  know ! 

BOY 

What? 

GIRL 

They  say  if  you  put  out  the  lights  and  shut  your 
eyes  very  tight  and  wait  very  patiently  that  an 
elf  will  come  and  tell  you  anything  you  want  to 
know. 
BOY 

I  don't  believe  in  elfs. 
53 


•* 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


GIRL 

Billie! 

BOY 
I  don't. 

GIRL 

The  plural  of  elf  is  elves.     We  had  it  to-day. 
BOY  (exasperated) 

I  knew  it, —  but  I  get  tired  of  having  to  think 

about  everything  before  I  speak.     Sometimes  I 

try  not  to  think  at  all. 
GIRL  (going  to  the  lamp) 

I'm  going  to  turn  out  the  light. 
BOY  (scornfully) 

Nothing  will  happen. 

GIRL 

Well,  we  can  try. 
BOY  (hunting) 

Lou,  where's  the  bank? 

GIRL 

I  hid  it,  Billie. 
BOY 

You  shan't  hide  my  money ! 

GIRL 

Keep  quiet,  Billie,  and  sit  down.      (She  puts  the 
light  out) 
BOY  (sheepishly) 
I  feel  so  silly. 

GIRL 

Are  your  eyes  shut? 

BOY 

No. 

GIRL 

Billy,  please  shut  your  eyes. 
54 


NEVERTHELESS 


BOY 

I  won't  do  it  ...  I'm  going  to  turn  on  the 
light. 

GIRL 

Now,  Billie  .  .  . 
[He  evidently  starts  for  the  lamp. 
I'll  give  you  the  keys  if  you're  good. 
BOY 
Now? 

GIRL 

No,  afterward. 
BOY  (turning  on  the  lamp) 
Promise. 

GIRL 

Yes.     (Out  goes  the  light  as  she  pulls  it)     Are 
you  sitting  down? 
BOY 

Uh-huh! 

GIRL 

Are  your  eyes  shut? 
BOY 

Uh-huh! 

GIRL 

Tight? 
BOY 

Uh-huh! 

GIRL 

And  when  he  comes  don't  talk. 

BOY 

Uh— . 

GIRL 

'Cause  you  don't  believe  and  you  might  frighten 
him  away. 

55 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


BOY 

Uh— . 
GIRL 

Where  are  you,  Billie? 

BOY 

Here  I  am. 

GIRL 

Move  over. 

BOY 

There  isn't  much  room. 

GIRL 

Now.      (Silence)     Do  you  hear  anything? 

BOY 

No. 

[Silence. 

A  pale  light  appears  between  the  curtains,  then 
a  dark  form. 

The  light  is  shut  off  and  presently  reappears  at 
the  table. 

The  Burglar  opens  the  drawers  and,  taking  out 
some  pretty   things,  puts  them  in  his  pocket. 
The  light  goes  out. 
Silence. 
GIRL 

Billie,  I  just  can't  stand  it  a  moment  longer. 
Don't  you  hear  the  elf?  .  .  .  (A  sound) 
There  he  is! 

[The  light  comes  on  again  and  the  Burglar  takes 
up  the  bank.     Just  as  he  is  putting  it  in  his 
pocket,  the  Girl  speaks. 
GIRL 

Do  you  know  what  nevertheless  means? 

[The  bank  goes  clattering  to  the  floor. 

The  light  is  turned  upon  the  two  children.     The 

56 


NEVERTHELESS 


Burglar  takes  a  step  forward  and  stumbles  over 
the  bank. 
BURGLAR 

Don't  holler. 

[The  Boy  turns  the  light  on. 

BOY 

A  burglar! 

GIRL 

If  you  don't  move,  Billie,  a  burglar  won't  hurt 
you. 

BOY 

Hold  up  your  hands,  Lou. 
BOY  and  GIRL  (holding  their  hands  up) 
We  give  up. 

BURGLAR 

Put  out  the  light.  * 

GIRL 

Please  don't  put  out  the  light  .  .  .  We'll  be 

good. 

[A  door  is  heard  to  close  in  the  next  room. 

BURGLAR 

Put  out  the  light.      ( The  light  goes  out)     Who 
was  that? 

GIRL 

Mary. 

BURGLAR 

What's  she  doing? 
BOY 

Don't  you  tell  him,  Lou.     Make  him  let  you 
turn  the  light  on. 
GIRL  (deciding  to  weep) 
I'm  afraid  of  the  dark. 

BURGLAR 

Quit  your  bawling  and  put  on  the  light. 
57 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


[The  Boy  puts  on  the  light. 
What's  she  doing? 

GIRL 

She's  setting  the  burglar  alarm  for  the  night. 

BURGLAR 

How  do  I  get  out  of  here? 
GIRL 

You  can't  get  out  because  if  you  open  anything 

all  the  bells  will  ring  and  the  police  will  come. 
BOY  (bravely  stepping  forward) 

We'll  put  you  in  jail.      (As  the  Burglar  turns, 

however,  he  wilts) 
GIRL 

Billie,  let's  let  him  go  if  he  tells  us  what  never 
theless  means. 

BURGLAR 

Huh? 

GIRL 

Do  you  know  what  nevertheless  means? 

BURGLAR 

What's  nevertheless? 

GIRL 

It's  a  word. 

BURGLAR 

What's  the  game? 
BOY 

If  you  know  what  nevertheless  means  we'll  let 
you  go. 

GIRL 

It's  a  compact. 

BURGLAR 

Promise  you  won't  give  me  up. 
GIRL 

We  won't  give  you  up  ...  Sit  down. 

58 


NEVERTHELESS 


[The  Burglar  sits. 
BOY 

Where's  your  pistol? 

BURGLAR 

I  ain't  got  none. 

GIRL 

Oh,  you  mustn't  say  that. 

BURGLAR 

Well,  I  ain't. 

GIRL 

It's  very  wrong  to  say  "  I  ain't."  My  mother 
would  make  us  read  all  "  The  Narrow  Path  "  if 
we  talked  like  that. 

BURGLAR    (puzzled) 

What! 

BOY 

They  carry  pistols  in  Texas.  ^ 

BURGLAR 

Well,  I  ain't  never  used  none,  and  I  ain't  never 
been  in  Texas,  and  what's  more  I  ain't  never 
going  to  Texas ! 

GIRL 

He's  a  very  pleasant  burglar,  Billie. 

BURGLAR 

Well,  I'm  in  a  pickle,  but  I  can't  hurt  no  kids. 

GIRL 

See,  Billie,  how  bad  grammar  sounds. 

BURGLAR 

I  don't  care  nothing  about  grammar.  When 
you  have  to  paddle  your  own  canoe,  you  can't 
take  no  time  for  grammar. 

GIRL 

Oh,  dear  Billie,  don't  ever  paddle  your  own 
canoe  .  .  .  Billie  .  .  .  (She  goes  to  whisper  to 

59 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


the  Boy)  ( To  the  Burglar,  as  she  passes  him) 
Excuse  me.  (To  the  Boy)  I'm  going  to  try 
Mother's  plan  on  him.  I'm  going  to  read  to 
him! 

[The  Burglar  rises  and  looks  around. 
BOY  (whispering) 

I'm  going  to  call  father. 

GIRL 

Now,  Billie,  maybe  we  can  make  him  good. 

BOY 

Well,  he  can't  get  away  and  he  hasn't  a  pistol  — 

BURGLAR 

Hey,  quit  your  jawing  and  give  me  up  if  you 
want  to. 

GIRL 

We're  not  going  to  give  you  up. 

BURGLAR 

Huh? 

GIRL 

We're  going  to  read  to  you. 

BURGLAR 

Quit  your  kidding. 
GIRL 

How  does  it  feel  to  be  a  burglar? 

BURGLAR 

Not  so  good. 

GIRL 

Aren't  you  afraid  to  be  a  burglar? 
BOY 

'Course  not.     Look  how  big  he  is. 

GIRL 

Aren't  you  ashamed  to  be  a  burglar? 

BURGLAR 

Well  ...  I  ain't  never  burgled  before. 
60 


NEVERTHELESS 


GIRL 

Well,  that's  not  so  bad,  but  just  the  same  we're 
going  to  read  to  you. 

BURGLAR 

What  for? 

GIRL 

Because  you  use  bad  grammar. 

BURGLAR 

You're  funny  kids.     Ain't  you  scared? 
BOY  (magnificently) 

No! 
BURGLAR  (turning  suddenly) 

Huh? 

[The  Boy  retreats  ingloriously. 

GIRL 

You  wouldn't  hurt  us,  would  you? 

BURGLAR 

Why  wouldn't  I  ? 
GIRL 

We  didn't  do  anything  to  you. 

BURGLAR 

You  trapped  me. 
GIRL 

We  didn't  know  you  were  coming. 

BURGLAR 

What  was  you  hiding  for? 
GIRL 

We  expected  someone  else. 

BURGLAR 

Go  on! 

[The  Boy  moves  a  chair  cautiously  toward  the 
Burglar  and  finally  summons  the  courage  to  sit 
down  beside  him. 

61 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


BOY  (pleasantly) 

Did  you  know  Jessie  James? 

BURGLAR 

I  heard  of  him  but  I  ain't  never  seen  him. 

GIRL 

What  made  you  begin? 

BURGLAR 

Never  mind  ...  I  began  and  I  got  caught. 
.  .  .  Now  what? 

GIRL 

I'm  going  to  read  to  you. 
BURGLAR  (resignedly) 

Go  ahead. 
GIRL 

Do  you  want  to  read,  Billie? 
BOY   (unselfishly) 

No! 

GIRL 

This  is  all  about  the  narrow  path. 

BURGLAR 

Uh-huh. 

GIRL  (reading) 

"  The  Narrow  Path  is  very  steep  and  straight. 
It  leads  to  a  land  of  gold  and  it  is  not  easy  to 
negotiate  because  Heaven  thinks  it  is  best  for 
people  to  climb  for  what  they  want.  Never 
theless  — " 

[The  Boy  and  Girl  burst  out  laughing  so  sud 
denly  that  the  Burglar  is  quite  startled. 

BURGLAR  (uneasily) 

What  are  you  laughing  at? 

GIRL  (pointing  to  "nevertheless") 
It's  such  a  funny  word. 
62 


NEVERTHELESS 


BURGLAR 

Ain't  it  just  like  other  words? 

GIRL 

Don't  it  look  funny? 
BOY 

Don't  it  look  funny? 

GIRL 

I  mean  doesn't  it  look  funny? 

[The  three  huddle  together  over  the  book. 

BURGLAR  (muttering} 

N-E-V-E-R-T-H-E-L-E-S-S.      Huh!      It   does 
look  sort  o'  funny  .  .  .  What's  the  rest  of  it? 

GIRL  (reading) 

"  Nevertheless  the  narrow  path  is  not  all  hard 
ship." 

BURGLAR 

Maybe  not;  but  it  was  pretty  hard  for  me. 

GIRL 

Have  you  tried  it? 

BURGLAR 

Yep.     But  I  slipped.  .  .  .  Go  on. 
GIRL  (reading) 

"  On  the  other  hand,  the  primrose  path  is  broad 
and  it  slopes  gently  downward,  but  it  leads  to 
the  land  of  thorns.     Neverthe — (She  turns  a 
page) — less — " 
[Again  the  children  go  into  gales  of  laughter. 

BURGLAR 

Huh? 

3IRL 

Look. 

[Again  they  huddle  over  the  book. 

3URGLAR 

N-E-V-E-R-T-H-E-L-E-S-S.  ...  It  is    funny. 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


(He  joins  heartily  in  the  laughter) 

GIRL 

You  see  —  it's  three  words  and  they  don't  mean 
anything  unless  they  are  all  huddled  together 
just  like  we  are  now. 
[They  all  laugh  uproariously. 
BOY  (on  the  friendliest  of  terms  now) 
Do  you  walk  the  primrose  path? 

BURGLAR 

Go  on!     I'm  in  the  land  of  thorns. 

GIRL 

Well,  how  did  you  get  there  if  you  didn't  walk 
the  primrose  path? 
BURGLAR 

I  just  naturally  fell. 

GIRL 

Don't   you   know   the   meaning   of   neverthe 
less? 

BURGLAR 

I  sort  o'  know  the  meaning,  but  I  can't  put  it 
into  words. 

GIRL 

Can  you  act  it  out? 

BURGLAR 

Huh? 

GIRL 

Can  you  act  it  out? 

BURGLAR 

What  do  you  mean  —  act  it  out? 

GIRL 

Sometimes  when  Billie  and  I  can't  put  things  into 
words  we  act  it  out.     Like  this:     If  I  want  to 
tell  someone  what  revolves  means,  I  just  do  this 
.  .  .  and  then  they  know. 
64 


NEVERTHELESS 


BURGLAR 

Aw,  yes,  you  pertend  1 

GIRL 

Oh  ...  Well  —  Can't  you  p-p-pertend  never 
theless  ? 

BURGLAR 

I  hardly  think  so. 

BOY 

Did  you  get  tired  on  the  narrow  path? 

BURGLAR 

Ye-eh  .  .  .  But  I  wish  I  hadn't. 

GIRL 

Can't  you  climb  back? 

BURGLAR 

Nope.     It's  too  late. 

GIRL  x 

Mother  says  it's  \never  too  late  to  do  right. 

BURGLAR 

Sure  it  is.     A  man  what's  been  in  jail  can't  get 
straight  again. 
BOY  (admiringly) 

Have  you  been  in  jail? 

BURGLAR 

No,  but  once  is  enough. 

GIRL 

When  are  you  going  to  jail? 

BURGLAR 

To-night,  I  guess. 

BOY 

What  for? 

BURGLAR 

For  breaking  in  here! 

GIRL 

We  aren't  going  to  send  you  to  jail. 
65 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


BURGLAR 

Maybe    not,    but   your    paw    and    maw    will. 

(Whimsically)      'Sides   I    can't  tell   you   what 

nevertheless  means  and  I  can't  act  it  out.     And 

a  compact's  a  compact,  ain't  it? 
GIRL 

Mother  won't  put  you  in  jail.     She's  too  kind. 
BOY  (with  sad  memories) 

But  she's  awful  strict  about  grammar  and  ugly 

words. 

GIRL 

She  says  it's  easy  to  walk  the  narrow  path. 
BOY 

Father  isn't  so  sure,  but  he  says  it  can  be  done. 

GIRL 

Come  on  and  we'll  help  you. 

BURGLAR 

Come  on  where  ? 
BOY 

Come  on  and  walk  the  narrow  path  with  us. 

BURGLAR 

Where  is  it? 
GIRL 
Here. 

BURGLAR 

What's  the  game? 

GIRL 

Mother  says  if  we  can  walk  a  straight  line  out 
that  door  without  wobbling,  we  can  walk  the 
narrow  path  all  our  lives  without  any  trouble. 

BOY 

To  speak  of. 

BURGLAR 

What's  on  the  other  side  of  that  door? 
66 


NEVERTHELESS 


BOY  and  GIRL 

Father  and  mother. 

BURGLAR 

You  seem  to  be  pretty  straight  kids,  but  it's  too 
late  for  me. 

GIRL 

No,  it  isn't. 

BURGLAR 

Yes,  it's  too  late.     I'll  take  the  back  door  and 

try  to  make  my  get-away. 
GIRL 

Billie,  you  ask  him. 
BOY 

I'd  like  to  have  you  come  with  us,  sir. 
Dad's  a  fine  man  and  mother's  a  great 
woman. 

GIRL 

All  we  have  to  do  is  to  walk  straight  through 
that  door  without  wobbling  — 
BOY 

Come  on  — 

BURGLAR 

I  think  it's  too  late  for  me  —  nevertheless  — 

(He  takes  their  hands) 
GIRL  (ecstatically) 

Oh,  he's  acted  out  nevertheless!     Billie,  don't 

you  see  the  real,  honest,  true,  live  meaning? 

.  .  .  Come  on,  let's  start. 

[ They  start  carefully  for  the  door  and,  as  they 

come  to  the  safe  they  stop.      The  Burglar  looks 

ruefully  at  it  a  moment. 
GIRL 

Don't  wobble  now.     We've  almost  made  it — 
[They  keep  on  for  the  door. 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


Isn't  it  easy?     And  mother  says  if  you  can  do 
this  little  bit,  you  can  do  it  always. 
\When  they  disappear  through  the  door,  the 
play  is  over. 


63 


THE  MEDICINE  SHOW 


LUT'ER 

Giz 

DR.  STEV'N  VANDEXTER 

The  scene  is  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Ohio 
River.  An  old  soap  box,  a  log  and  a  large  stone 
are  visible.  The  river  is  supposed  to  flow  between 
the  stage  and  the  audience.  In  the  background^ 
at  the  top  of  the  "  grade  "  is  the  village  of  Rock 
Springs. 


THE  MEDICINE  SHOW 


PROLOGUE 

This  is  only  a  quarter  of  a  play.  Its  faults  are 
many.  Come,  glory  in  them  with  us. 
You  are  a  little  boy  once  more  lying  on  your 
rounded  belly  on  the  cool,  damp  sands  beside 
the  beautiful  river.  You  are  still  young  enough 
to  see  the  wonder  that  everywhere  touches  the 
world;  and  men  are  in  the  world  —  all  sorts  of 
men.  But  you  can  still  look  upon  them  with 
the  shining  eyes  of  brotherhood.  You  can  still 
feel  the  mystery  that  is  true  understanding. 
Everywhere  about  you  men  and  things  are 
reaching  for  the  infinite,  each  in  his  own  way, 
be  it  big  or  little,  be  it  the  moon  or  a  medicine 
show;  and  you  yourself  are  not  yet  decided 
whether  to  reach  for  the  stars  or  go  a-fishing. 
Brother ! 

[Lufer  enters  or  rather  oozes  in. 
He  is  a  tall,  expressionless,  uncoordinated  per 
son  who  might  be  called  filthy  were  it  not  for 
the  fact  that  the  dirt  on  his  skin  and  on  his 
clothes  seems  an  inherent  part  of  him.  He  has 
a  wan  smile  that  —  what  there  is  of  it  —  is  not 
displeasing.  Strangely  enough,  his  face  is  al 
ways  smooth'Shaven.  He  carries  a  fishing  pole 
made  from  a  tree  twig  and  equipped  with  a 
thread  knotted  frequently  and  a  bent  pin  for 
hook. 
Lufer  looks  about  and  his  eyes  light  on  the 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


stone.  He  attempts  to  move  it  with  his  bare 
foot  to  the  water's  edge,  but  it  is  too  heavy  for 
him.  Next  he  looks  at  the  log,  raises  his  foot 
to  move  it,  then  abandons  the  attempt  because 
his  eyes  rest  on  the  lighter  soap  box.  This  he 
puts  in  position  never  deigning  to  touch  it  with 
his  hands.  Then  he  sits  calmly  and  drawing  a 
fahing  worm  from  the  pocket  of  his  shirt  fastens 
it  on  the  pin-hook  and  casts  his  line  into  the 
water.  Thereafter  he  takes  no  apparent  in 
terest  in  fishing. 
After  a  moment  Giz  enters. 
Giz  is  somewhat  dirtier  than  Lut'er  but  the  dirt 
is  less  assimilated  and  consequently  less  to  be 
condoned.  Besides  he  is  fuzzy  with  a  beard  of 
long  standing.  He  may  have  been  shaved  some 
Saturdays  ago  —  but  quite  ago. 
Giz  doesn't  speak  to  Lut'er  and  Lut'er  doesn't 
speak  to  Giz,  but  Lut'er  suggests  life  by  con 
tinued  chewing  and  he  acknowledges  the  prox 
imity  of  Giz  by  spitting  and  wiping  his  lips  with 
his  hand.  Giz  having  tried  the  log  and  the  rock 
finally  chooses  the  rock  and  acknowledges 
Lut'er*s  salivary  greeting  by  spitting  also;  but 
he  wipes  his  mouth  on  his  sleeve. 
After  a  moment  he  reaches  forward  with  his 
bare  foot  and  touches  the  water. 

GIZ 

'T's  warm  as  fresh  milk. 

[Lut'er,  not  to  be  wholly  unresponsive,  spits. 
A  fresh  silence  falls  upon  them. 
GIZ 

*S  Hattie  Brown  came  in? 
72 


THE  MEDICINE  SHOW 


[Lut'er  spits  and  almost  shakes  his  head  nega 
tively. 

She's  a  mighty  good  little  steam-boat. 
LUT'ER 

She's  water-logged. 

GIZ 

She  ain't  water-logged. 
LUT'ER 
She  is. 

GIZ 

She  ain't. 
LUT'ER 
She  is. 

GIZ 

She  ain't.  ( The  argument  dies  of  malnu 
trition.  After  a  moment  of  silence  Giz 
speaks) 

GIZ 

'S  river  raisin1? 
LUT'ER 

Nup! 

[Silence. 
GIZ 

Fallin'? 
LUT'ER 

Nup! 

GIZ 

Standin'  still? 
LUT'ER 

Uh! 

[  The  conversation  might  continue  if  Giz  did  not 

catch  a  mosquito  on  his  leg. 
GIZ 

Gosh !     A  galler-nipper  at  noon  day ! 
73 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


[Lut'er  scratches  back  of  his  ear  warily. 
GIZ 

An*  look  at  the  whelp ! 

[Giz  scratches  actively,  examines  the  wound  and 
anoints  it  with  tobacco  juice. 
The  Play  would  be  ended  at  this  moment  for 
lack  of  varied  action  if  Dr.  Stev'n  Fandexter 
did  not  enter. 

He  is  an  eager }  healthy -looking  man  with  a  whit 
ish  beard  that  long  washing  in  Ohio  River  water 
has  turned  yellowish.  He  wears  spectacles  and 
his  clothes  and  general  appearance  are  some 
what  an  improvement  upon  Lut'er  and  Giz. 
Furthermore  he  wears  what  were  shoes  and 
both  supports  of  his  suspenders  are  fairly  in 
tact.  He  is  whittling  a  piece  of  white  pine  with 
a  large  jack-knife. 

Seeing  Lut'er  and  Giz  he  draws  the  log  between 
them  and  sits. 

After  a  moment  in  which  three  cuds  are  audibly 
chewed,  Dr.  Stev'n  speaks. 

DOCTOR 

What  gits  me  is  how  they  done  it. 
[For  the  first  time  Lut'er  turns  his  head  as  ad 
mission  that  some  one  is  there. 
Giz  looks  up  with  a  dawn  of  interest  under  his 
beard. 
Silence. 

DOCTOR 

I  traded  a  two  pound  catfish  for  a  box  of  that 
salve :  an'  I  don't  see  how  they  done  it. 
[Lut'er  having  turned  his  head  keeps  it  turned. 
Evidently  Dr.  Stev'n  always  has  something  of 
interest  to  say. 

74 


THE  MEDICINE  SHOW 


GIZ 

Kickapoo  ? 

DOCTOR 

Ye'.  Kickapoo  Indian  Salve.  I  don't  think  no 
Indian  never  seen  it.  (He  looks  at  Giz  for 
acquiescence) 

GIZ 

Y'ain't  never  sure  about  nothin'  these  days. 
[Dr.  Stev'n  looks  at  Lut'er  for  acquiescence 
also,  and  Lut'er  approving  turns  his  head  for 
ward  and  spits  assent. 

DOCTOR 

I  smelled  it  an'  it  smelled  like  ker'sene.  I  biled 
it  an'  it  biled  over  an'  burnt  up  like  ker'sene. 
...  I  don't  think  it  was  nothin'  but  ker'sene  an' 
lard. 

GIZ 

Reckon  't  wuz  common  ker'sene? 

DOCTOR 

I  don't  know  whether  't  wuz  common  ker'sene 
but  I  know  't  wuz  ker'sene.  .  .  .  An'  I  bet 
ker'sene'll  cure  heaps  o'  troubles  if  yer  use  it 
right. 

GIZ 

That  air  doctor  said  the  salve  ud  cure  most 
anything. 

LUT'ER  (#5  though  a  voice  from  the  grave,  long 
forgotten) 
Which  doctor? 

GIZ 

The  man  doctor  —  him  with  the  p'inted  muss- 
tash. 
LUT'ER 

I  seen  him  take  a  egg  outer  Jimmie  Weldon's 
75 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


ear  —  an'  Jimmie  swore  he  didn't  have  no  hen 
in  his  head. 

DOCTOR 

But  the  lady  doctor  said  it  warn't  so  good  — 
effie-cacious  she  called  it  —  withouten  you  took 
two  bottles  o'  the  buildin'  up  medicine,  a  box  o' 
the  liver  pills  an'  a  bottle  o'  the  hair  fluid. 

GIZ 

She  knowed  a  lot.  She  told  me  just  how  I  felt 
an'  she  said  she  hated  to  trouble  me  but  I  had 
a  internal  ailment.  An'  she  said  I  needed  all 
their  medicine  jus'  like  the  Indians  used  it.  But 
I  told  her  I  didn't  have  no  money  so  she  said 
maybe  the  box  o'  liver  pills  would  do  if  I'd 
bring  'em  some  corn  for  their  supper. 

DOCTOR 

Y'  got  the  liver  pills  ? 
GIZ 

Uh-huh. 
LUT'ER 

Took  any? 
GIZ 

Nup,  I'm  savin'  'em. 
LUT'ER 
What  fur? 

GIZ 

Till  I'm  feelin'  sicker'n  I  am  now. 
DOCTOR 

Where  are  they? 
GIZ 

In  m'  pocket. 

[They  chew  in  silence  for  a  minute. 

DOCTOR 

Yes,  sir!     It  smelled  like  ker'sene  ter  me  — 


THE  MEDICINE  SHOW 


and    ker'sene    't    wuz.  .  .  .  Ker'sene'll    cure 
heaps  o'  things  if  you  use  it  right. 
[He  punctuates  his  talk  with  covert  glances  at 
Giz.     His  thoughts  are  on  the  pills. 
DOCTOR 

Which  pocket  yer  pills  in,  Giz? 
GIZ  (discouragingly) 

M'  hip  pocket. 

[Again  they  chew. 
DOCTOR 

The  Family  Medicine  Book  where  I  learned  ter 
be  a  doctor  said  camphor  an*  ker'sene  an'  lard 
rubbed  on  flannel  an'  put  on  the  chest  'ud  cure 
tizic,  maybe.  (He  looks  at  Giz) 

DOCTOR 

An'  what  ud  cure  tizic  ought  ter  cure  anything, 
I  think.  ...  I'd  'a'  cured  m'  second  wife  if  the 
winder  hadn't  blowed  out  an'  she  got  kivered 
with  snow.  After  that  she  jus'  wheezed  until 
she  couldn't  wheeze  no  longer.  An'  so  when  I 
went  courtin'  m'  third  wife,  I  took  a  stitch  in 
time  an'  told  her  about  the  camphor  an'  ker'sen 
an'  lard.  (Ruefully)  She's  a  tur'ble  healthy 
woman.  (His  feelings  and  his  curiosity  having 
overcome  his  tactf  he  blurts  out)  Giz,  why'n 
th'  hell  don't  yer  show  us  yer  pills ! 

GIZ 

Well  —  if  yer  wanner  see  'em  —  here  they  air. 
[He  takes  the  dirty,  mashed  box  out  of  his  hip 
pocket  and  hands  it  to  the  Doctor. 
The  Doctor  opens  the  box  and  smells  the  pills. 

DOCTOR 

Ker'sene.  .  .  .  Smell  'em  Lut'er.  (He  holds 
the  box  close  to  Lut'er' s  nose) 

77 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


LUT'ER    (with  the  least  possible  expenditure  of 
energy) 
Uh! 

DOCTOR 

Ker'sene !  .  .  .  Well,  I  guess  it's  good  for  the 
liver,  too.  .  .  .  Gimme  one,  Giz? 

GIZ 

I  ain't  got  so  many  I  can  be  givin'  'em  ter 
everybody. 

DOCTOR 

Jus*  one,  Giz. 

Giz 

She  said  I  ought  ter  take  'em  all  fer  a  cure. 

LUT'ER 

What  yer  got,  Giz?  (Calling  a  man  by  name 
is  a  great  effort  for  Lut'er) 

GIZ 

Mostly  a  tired  feelin'  an'  sometimes  a  crick  in 
th'  back.  (Lut'er  displays  a  sympathy  un 
dreamed  of) 

LUT'ER 

Gimme  one,  Giz. 

GIZ 

Gosh!     You  wjant  th'  whole  box,  don't  yer? 

LUT'ER 

Keep  yer  pills.      (He  spits) 

DOCTOR 

What's  ailin'  yout  Lut'er? 

LUT'ER 

Oh,  a  tired  feelin'  (there  is  a  long  moment  of 
suspended  animation,  but  the  Doctor  knows  that 
the  mills  of  the  gods  grind  slowly  —  and  he 
waits  for  Lut'er  to  continue)  an'  a  crick  in  m* 
back. 

7* 


THE  MEDICINE  SHOW 


DOCTOR 

I'll  cure  yer,  Lut'er.     (Lufer  just  looks)     If 

that  Kickapoo  doctor  with  the  p'inted  muss-tash 

kin  cure  yer,  I  guess  I  can. 
Giz  (who  has  been  thinking  pretty  hard)     Got  any 

terbaccer,  Doc? 
DOCTOR 

Yep. 

GIZ 

Well,  here's  a  pill  fer  a  chaw.  (He  and  the 
Doctor  rise) 

[Giz  takes  a  pill  out  of  the  box  and  the  Doctor 
takes  his  tobacco  from  his  pocket,  reaches  out 
his  hand  for  the  pill  and  holds  out  the  tobacco 
placing  his  thumb  definitely  on  the  plug  so  that 
Giz  can  bite  of  so  much  and  no  more.  Giz  bites 
and  the  Doctor  takes  over  the  pill. 
Lut'er  not  to  be  outdone  takes  a  battered  plug  of 
tobacco  from  his  pocket  and  bites  off  an  un 
limited  "  chaw." 

The  Doctor  takes  his  knife  from  his  pocket  and 
cuts  the  pill,  smelling  it. 
DOCTOR 

Ker'sene!  (He  tastes  it)  Ker'sene!  Now 
I  been  thinkin'  things  over,  Lut'er  and 
Giz  ... 

[He  tastes  the  pill  again. 
Ker'sene,  sure! 

[He  sits  down  on  the  log  once  more,  spits  care 
fully  and  crosses  his  legs. 
I  got  a  business  proposition  to  make. 
[Silence. 

Lut'er  spits  and  crosses  his  legs,  and  Giz  just 
spits. 

79 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


DOCTOR 

There  ain't  enough  home  industry  here  in  Rock 
Springs.     We    got    a    canning    fact'ry    and    a 
stea'mill ;  but  here  comes  a  medicine  show  from 
loway  —  a    Kickapoo    Indian    Medicine    Show 
from  loway!     Now  —  what  we  need  in  Rock 
Springs  is  a  medicine  show !      (He  waits  for  the 
effect  upon  his  audience) 
LUT'ER  (after  a  pause) 
How  yer  goin'  ter  git  it? 

DOCTOR 

Well,  here's  my  proposition.  Ain't  we  got  as 
much  horse  sense  as  them  loway  Indians? 

LUT'ER 

A  damn  sight  more.  (That  is  the  evident  an 
swer  to  the  Doctor,  but  Lut'er  develops  a  fur 
ther  idea)  We  got  the  country  from  the  In 
dians. 

Giz  (after  a  moment  of  accumulating  admiration) 
By  golly,  Lut'er,  yer  right. 

DOCTOR 

Now,  I  got  some  medicine  science.     I'd  'a1  cured 

my  second  wife  if  it  hadn't  been  for  that  busted 

winder. 
GIZ 

Yeh,  but  what  come  o'  yer  first  wife? 
DOCTOR 

I  could  'a'  cured  her,  too,  only  I  hadn't  found 

the  Family  Medicine  Book  then. 
LUT'ER 

Well,   what   I   wanter  know   is  —  what's   yer 

proposition  .  .  .  I'm   in    a    hurry.  .  .  .  Here 

comes  the  Hattie  Brown. 
80 


THE  MEDICINE  SHOW 


[The  Hattie  Brown   and   the   whistle   of   the 

stea'mill  indicate  noon. 

Lut*er  takes  in  the  line  —  removes  the  fishing 

worm  and  puts  it  in  his  pocket. 
DOCTOR 

Well,  I'll  make  the  salve  an'  do  the  talkin'; 

Giz'll  sort  o'  whoop  things  up  a  bit  and  Lut'er'll 

git  cured. 
LUT'ER 

What'll  I  git  cured  of? 

DOCTOR 

Oh,  lumbago  an'  tired  feelin'  .  .  .  crick  in  the 
back  and  tizic. 

LUT'ER 

But  who'll  take  a  egg  out  o'  somebody's  ear? 

DOCTOR 

Giz'll  learn  that. 

LUT'ER   (with  a  wan  smile  that  memory  illumi 
nates) 
An'  who'll  play  the  pianny? 

DOCTOR 

Besteena,  my  daughter. 
LUT'ER 

Where  we  goin'  ? 
DOCTOR 

We'll  go  ter  Lavanny  first. 
LUT'ER 

How'll  we  git  there? 

DOCTOR 

Walk  —  unless  somebody  gives  us  a  tote. 
GIZ 

We  kin  go  in  my  John-boat. 
81 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


LUT'ER 

Who'll  row?      ( There  is  fear  in  his  voice) 

GIZ 

We'll  take  turns.      (Lut'er  looks  with  terror 

upon  Giz) 
LUT'ER 

How  fur  is  it? 

DOCTOR 

Three    an'    a    half   mile.  .  .  .  Will   yer    go, 
Lut'er? 

LUT'ER  (evidently  thinking  deeply), 
How  fur  is  it? 

GIZ 

Three  an'  a  half  mile. 

DOCTOR 

Will  yer  go,  Lut'er? 
LUT'ER 
Uh-h. 

DOCTOR 

Huh? 

GIZ 

He  said,  uh-huh. 
[Lut'er  chews  in  silence. 

DOCTOR 

I  thought  he  said  uh-uh. 
GIZ 

He  said  uh-huh. 

DOCTOR  .  ., 

He  didn't  say  nothin'   o'   the  sort  —  he  said 

uh-uh.  .  TT     • 

[They    turn   to   Lut'er   questiomngly.     tie   is 

chewing  intensely. 


LUT'ER  (after  a  moment} 
How  fur  did  yer  say  it  wuz? 
82 


THE  MEDICINE  SHOW 


DOCTOR 

Three  an'  a  half  mile. 
[Silence. 

GIZ 

We'll  each  take  a  oar. 

[Silence. 

A  stentorian  voice  is  heard  calling  Stee'vun. 

The  Doctor  rises,  hastily. 

DOCTOR 

What  d'yer  say,  Lut'er  ? 
LUT'ER 

It's  three  an'  a  half  mile  ter  Lavanny  —  an' 
three  an'  a  half  mile  back.  .  .  .  Pretty  fur. 

DOCTOR 

We  kin  come  back  on  the  current. 

LUT'ER 

Three  an'  a  half  mile  air  three  an'  a  half  mile  — 
current  or  no  current. 

[Again  the  masterful  female  voice  calls  Stee'- 
vun.  There  is  no  mistaking  its  meaning. 
The  Doctor  is  torn  between  home  and  business. 
Lut'er  takes  up  his  rod,  rebaits  the  hook  with 
the  fishing-worm  from  his  pocket  and  casts  his 
line  into  the  river. 

LUT'ER 

I'll  think  it  over  ...  but  I  ain't  givin'  yuh  no 
hope  .  .  .  Three  an'  a  half  mile  one  way  air 
pretty  fur  .  .  .  but  two  ways  —  it's  turruble ! 

DOCTOR 

Come  on,  Giz.     We'll  talk  it  over. 
[  The  Doctor  and  Giz  leave  Lut'er  to  his  prob 
lem. 
Lufcr  is  undecided.     He  is  at  a  crisis  in  his  life. 

83 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


He  spits  thoughtfully  and  looks  after  the  re 
treating  Doctor  and  Giz. 
LUT'ER 

Three  an'  a  half  mile  .  .  .  (He  takes  in  his  line 
and  removes  the  fishing-worm.  He  rises  and 
looks  again  after  the  Doctor  and  Giz.  He  hesi 
tates)  .  .  .  two  ways  .  .  .  (He  starts  in  the 
opposite  direction,  as  he  justifies  himself  to  his 
inner  self)  Rock  Springs  is  fur  enough  fur 
me!  (When  he  disappears  the  play  is  over.) 


SIX  WHO  PASS  WHILE  THE  LENTILS 
BOIL 


THE  BOY 

THE  QUEEN 

THE  MIME 

THE  MILKMAID 

THE  BLINDMAN 

THE  BALLAD-SINGER 

THE  DREADFUL  HEADSMAN 

You  (in  the  audience) 

The  Scene  is  a  kitchen. 

The  Period  is  when  you  will. 


SIX  WHO  PASS  WHILE  THE 
LENTILS  BOIL 


[Before  the  opening  of  the  curtains  the  Pro 
logue  enters  upon  the  forestage  and  summons 
the  Device-Bearer  who  carries  a  large  copper 

pot. 

PROLOGUE 

This  is  a  copper  pot.  (The  Device-Bearer 
shows  it  to  the  audience  carefully)  It  is  filled 
with  boiling  water.  ( The  Device-Bearer  makes 
the  sound  of  bubbling  water)  It  is  on  the  fire. 
See  the  flames.  "l&The  Device-Bearer  sets  the 
pot  in  the  center  fff  the  forestage  an^blows  un 
der  it  with  a  pair  of  bellows  y\  And  see  the 
water  boiling  over.  ( The  Device-Bearer  again 
makes  the  sound  of  bubbling  water  and  then 
withdraws  to  where  he  can  see  the  play  from  the 
side  of  the  forestage)  We  are  looking  into  the 
kitchen  of  the  Boy  whose  mother  left  him  alone. 
I  do  not  know  where  she  has  gone  but  I  do  know 
that  he  is  gathering  lentils  now. 

YOU 

What  are  lentils? 
PROLOGUE 

A  lentil?  Why  a  lentil,  don't  you  see,  is  not 
a  bean  nor  yet  a  pea ;  but  it  is  kin  to  both  .  .  . 
You  must  imagine  that  the  boy  has  built  the  fire 
and  set  the  water  boiling.  He  is  very  indus 
trious  but  you  need  not  feel  sorry  for  him.  His 
mother  is  very  good  to  him  and  he  is  safe.  Are 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


you    ready   now?  .  .  .  Very   well.     Be    quiet. 
[The  Prologue  claps  his  hands  twice. 

The  curtains  open  and  a  kitchen  is  disclosed. 
(There  are  a  bench,  a  stool  and  a  cupboard.  A 
great  door  at  the  back  opens  into  a  corridor. 
There  are  also  two  windows  —  one  higher  than 
the  other  looking  upon  the  corridor.  At  the 
right  a  door  opens  into  the  bedroom  of  the  Boy's 
mother.  A  great  pewter  spoon  lies  upon  the 
shelf  in  the  cupboard. 

A  large  Butterfly  comes  in  through  the  door 
way,  flits  about\ind  looks  of  stage: 
The  song  of  the  Boy  is  heard  from  the  garden. 
The  Butterfly  goes  to  the  door,  poises  a  moment, 
then  alights  on  the  cupboard. 
The  Boy  enters  with  a  great  bowl  filled  with 
lentils. 

The  Butterfly  flies   to   the  bowl  and  satisfied 
returns  to  the  cupboard. 

The  Boy  smiles  at  the  Butterfly  but  he  does 
not  touch  him.     Then  he  empties  the  lentils  into 
the  pot  and  water  splashes  on  his  careless  hand. 
A  moan  is  heard  in  the  distance.     The  Boy  and 
the  Butterfly  go  to  the  door. 
The  Queen's  voice  is  heard  calling: 
Butterfly,  Butterfly,  where  shall  I' hide? 
[Enter  the  Queen. 

QUEEN 

Boy,  Boy  —  oh,  I  am  distraught ! 

YOU 

What  is  distraught? 
PROLOGUE 

Distraught  means  distracted,  perplexed,  beset 
with  doubt,  worried  by  some  fear.^ 
88 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

BOY  (pityingly) 

Why  are  you  distraught? 
.  QUEEN 

Oh  —  Oh  —  Oh  —  They  are  going  to  behead 
me! 
BOY 
When? 

QUEEN 

Before  mid-day. 

BOY 

Why  are  they  going  to  behead  you?  Js-ifc  a 
§,tary-2-  Tell4t  to  me. 

QUEEN 

I  was  guilty  of  a  breach  of  etiquette. 

BOY 

What  is  that? 

QUEEN 

I  did  something  that  was  considered  bad  man 
ners  and  the  law  says  the  punishment  is  decapi 
tation. 

YOU 

What  is  decapitation? 

PROLOGUE 

f' Decapitation   is   beheading;    cutting   off   one's 
head. 

BOY 

Why,  only  kings  and  queens  can  be  decapi 
tated. 

QUEEN 

Oh,  I  know  —  I  know  — 

BOY  (disappointed) 
Are  you  a  queen? 

QUEEN 

Yes. 

89 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


BOY 

I  thought  all  queens  were  big.  My  mother  says 
they  are  always  regal.  And  my  mother  knows. 

QUEEN 

Oh,  I  am  the  queen.  /  am  the  queen;  but  I 
am  so  unhappy. 

BOY 

My  mother  told  me  kings  and  queens  knew  no 
fear?  Why,  you're  afraid. 

QUEEN 

Oh,  Boy,  Boy,  I  am  your  queen  and  I  am  afraid 
and  unhappy.     And  queens  are  just  like  other 
people  when  they  are  afraid  and  unhappy. 
BOY  (disappointed) 

Aren't  they  always  regal? 

QUEEN 

No  —  no.     Oh,  little  boy,  hide  me,  hide  me 
from  the  Dreadful  Headsman ! 
BOY 

I  haven't  any  place  to  hide  you.  You  couldn't 
get  under  the  bench  and  you  couldn't  get  into 
the  cupboard. 

QUEEN 

Little  boy,  can't  you  see  that  I  shall  lose  my 
head  if  I  am  found?  ; 

BOY 

You  might  have  hidden  in  the  pot  if  I  hadn't 
\/  put  it  on  the  fire. 

QUEEN  / 

Oh  — Oh  — Oh  — 

BOY 

I'm  sorry. 
QUEEN 

I  am  distraught; 

9P 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 


Well,  I'll  hide  you,  because  you  are  distraught; 
but  —  I   am  not  sure  you  are  a   queen  .  .  . 
Where's  your  crown?     You  can't  be  a  queen 
without  a  crown! 
[She  reaches  up  to  her  head. 

QUEEN 

Oh,  I  was  running  so  fast  that  it  must  have 
slipped  from  my  head.      (Sees  the  Butterfly) 
Butterfly,  tell  him  I  am  your  Queen. 
[  The  Butterfly  flies  to  her  head  and  lights  on 
her  disheveled  locks  like  a  diadem. 
BOY 

Ohv  I  have  talked  to  the  Queen 1  .  -.  ,  You  can 
hide  in  my  mother's  bed-room  in  there ;  but  first 
please  tell  me  a  story. 

QUEEN 

They  will  find  me  here.  I'll  tell  you  a  story 
afterward. 

BOY 

I  want  you  to  tell  me  now. 
QUEEN 

Well,  you  watch  at  the  door  and  warn  me  when 
you  see  someone  coming.  (The  Butterfly 
brushes  her  ear)  But  stay,  the  Butterfly  says 
he'll  watch. 

[The  Butterfly  goes  to  the  door. 
\  BOY 

Will  he  know? 

QUEEN 

Oh,  yes.  He  is  a  wonderful  butterfly  —  wise 
beyond  his  years. 

BOY 

Sit  down  and  tell  me  your  story.     (He  places 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


a  black  pillow  for  the  Queen  on  the  step  and  an 
orange  pillow  for  himself) 

QUEEN 

Last  night  we  celebrated  the  second  year  of 
peace  with  the  neighboring  kingdom.  We  were 
dancing  the  minuet  just  after  the  banquet,  when 
I  stepped  on  the  ring-toe  of  my  husband  the 
King's  great  aunt. 
BOY 

Didn't  you  say  excuse  me  ? 

QUEEN 

It  was  useless.  The  law  says  that  if  a  queen 
steps  on  the  ring-toe  of  the  King's  great  aunt  or 
any  member  of  her  family  the  Queen  must  be 
beheaded  while  the  King's  four  clocks  are  strik 
ing  twelve  at  mid-day. 
(BOY 

Oh,  that  means  to-day? 
QUEEN  * 
YesJ 

BOY        ' 

Why,  it's  almost  mid-day  now.     See,  I've  just 
set  the  lentils  boiling. 

QUEEN 

If  you  can  hide  me  until  after  the  King's  four 
clocks  strike  twelve  I  shall  be  safe, 
f  BOY 

Why  are  there  four  clocks? 

QUEEN 

Because  the  law  Allows  only  one  clock  for  each 
tower  in  the  castle. 

BOY 

Then  I  hear  all  the  King's  clocks  every  day ! 
92 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

There's  a  big  clock,  and  two  clocks  not  so  big, 
and  a  tiny  little  clock. 

QUEEN 

Yes,  thdse  are  the  four. 

BOY 

"Why  will  you  be  safe  after  the  four  clocks  strike 
twelve  ? 

QUEEN 

Because  that  is  the  law. 

BOY 

Aren't  laws  funny? 

QUEEN 

Funny?     This  one  is  very  sad,  I  think. 
BOY 

Mightn't  it  be  twelve  any  mid-day? 
QUEEN  ; 

No;  tjhe  Prime  Minister  of  my  grandfather  who 

passed  the  law  decided  that  it  meant  only  the 

following  mid-day. 
BOY  (rising  and  rushing  to  the  door) 

They'll  find  you  here. 
QUEEN  (rising  calmly) 

Oh,  no,  this  is  the  short  cut  to  the  beheading 

block.     Through  that  corridor. 

BOY 

Why  didn't  you  run  the  other  way? 
QUEEN 

Because  they  always  search  for  escaped  people 
in  that  direction.  So  I  ran  through  your  gar 
den  and  into  this  room.  They'll  never  search 
for  me  so  close  to  the  castle. 

BOY 

How  did  you  escape? 
93 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


QUEEN 
l!~ 

'[The  Butterfly  seems  agitated. 
BOYf 
Yijiu  — 

QUEEN 

Someone  is  coming.     Hide  me  I 

BOY 

In  here  —  in  my  mother's  room.     'Sh  1     'Sh  I 

[  The  Queen  goes  out. 

Enter  the  Mime.  -    < 

He  pokes  his  head  in  the  lower  window  and 


peeps  around  the  door. 
Tl 


"he  boy  turns. 
BOY  (weakly) 

Are  you  the  Dreadful  Headsman? 

MIME 

What? 

BOY 

Are  you  the  Dreadful  Headsman? 

MIME 

Do  I  look  like  a  headsman  ? 

BOY 

I  don't  know;  I've  never  seen  one. 

MIME 

Well,  suppose  I  am. 

BOY 

Are  you? 

MIME 

Maybe  I  am. 

BOY 

Oh! 

MIME 

Booh  I 

94 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

BOY 

I'm  —  I'm ! — •  not  afraid. 

MIME 

Bah! 

BOY 

And  my  mother  isn't  here. 

MIME 

Br  —  r  —  r  —  r! 
[ThffBoy  reaches  for  his  knife. 
MIME' 
Bine! 

BOY 

I  $jasn't  going  to  hurt  you ! 
MIMJ 

'S$I  .  .  .  'Sh!  .  .  .  'Sh!  .  .  . 

BOY 

I'll  gn  •*  you  my  knife  if  you'll  go 

MIME 

Ah,—  ha ! 

BOY 

It's  nearly  mid-day  v. 

MIME 

Well,  give  me  the  knife. 

BOY 

Promise  me  to  go. 
MIME  (laughs,  turning  away) 

Aren't  you  going  to  the  beheading? 
BOY 

No.     I  have  to  boil  the  lentils  for  our  mid-day 

meal. 

MIME  v 

May  I  come  back  and  eat  some?^ 

BOY 

You'll  have  to  ask  my  mother. 
95 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


MIME 

Where  is  she? 
BOY 

She's  over  that  way.  She  went  to  the  market 
to  buy  4  bobbin. 

YOU 

What  ijs  a  bobbin? 

PROLOGUl 

A  bobbin  is  a  spool  upon  which  thread  is  wound, 
and  it  js  sharp  at  one  end  so  that  it  can  be  easily 
passed/  backward  and  forward,  to  and  fro, 
through  the  other  threads  in  making  lace. 

MIME  (starting  off) 

Well,  I'll  be  back  to  eat  some  lentils. 

BOY  (too  eagerly) 
You'd  better  hurry. 

MIME 

You  seem  to  want  to  get  ric 
BOY  (allaying  sn**' 

Well,  I  think  ]  ^  you'll  be  late  — 

an^1  '  •  wrong  to  be  late. 

^  ihe  door) 

^changing  his  mind)  sit  down. 
.^appointed) 


MIME 

What  would  you  say  if  I  wasn't  the  Heads 
man? 

BOY 

But  you  said  you  were. 

MIME 

I  said  maybe  I  was. 

BOY 

Aren't  you? 

96 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

MIME 

Maybe  I'm  not. 
BOY 

Honest? 

MIME 

Um,  hum. 

BOY  (relieved) 

Oh!  ... 

MIME 

You  were  afraid,   x 

BOY 

No  ...  I  wasn't. 
"MIME 

Would  you  fight? 
BOY 

You  bet  I  would. 

MIME 

It  wouldn't  take  me  a  minute  to  lick  you. 
BOY 

Maybe  it  wouldn't,  but  I  wouldn't  give  up  right 

away.     That   would  be   cowardly.;/.  .  .  Who 

are  you  ? 
MIME 

I'm  a  mime  — 
BOY 

What's  a  mime  ? 

MIME 

A  mime's  a  mime. 
BOY 

Go  on  and  tell  me. 

MIME 

A  mime's  a  (mountebank. 
BOY 

What's  a  mountebank? 
97 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


MIME        yyJ^U^t 

A  mountebank's  a  strolling  player. 
BOY 

Are  you  going  to  perform  for  me? 

MIME 

Not  to-day  —  I'm  on  my  way  to  the  decapi 
tation. 

BOY 

Do  you  want  to  see  the  decapitation  ? 

MIME 

Well,  yes.     But  most  of  all  I  want  to  pick  up 
a  few  coins. 
BOY 
How? 

MIME 

Why,  I'll  perform  after  the  Queen  has  lost  her 
head. 

BOY 

Won't  you  be  too  sorry? 

MIME 

No.  You  see,  I'll  be  thinking  mostly  about 
what  I'm  going  to  do.  I  have  to  do  my  best 
because  it  is  hard  to  be  more  interesting  than  a 
decapitation.  \And  after  it's  all  over  the  crowd 
will  begin  to  talk  and  to  move  aboutVand  I'll 

fo     have  to  rush  up  to  the  front  of  them  and  cry 
out  at  the  top  of  my  lungs,fu  Stop  —  Ho,  for 
Jack  the  Juggler!  Would  you  miss  him?     In 
London  where  the  king  of  kings  lives,  all  the 
knights  and  ladies  of  the  Court  would  leave  a 
crowning  to  watch  Jack  the  Juggler  toss  three 
golden  balls  with  one  hand  or  balance  a  weather- 
vane  upon  his  nose.'^\  Then  a  silence  will  com 
upon  the  crowd  ana  they  will  all  turn  to  me 
98  ' 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

Someone  will  say,   "  Where   is  this  Jack  the 

Juggler?"  And  I  shall  answer,  "  Jack  the 
uggler,  the  greatest  of  the  great,  the  pet  of 
kings,  entertainer  to  the  Pope  and  the  joy  of 
Cathay  stands  before  you."  And  I'll  throw 
back  my  cloak  and  stand  revealed.  So  1  Some 
one  will  then  shout,  "  Let  us  have  it,  Jack."  So 
I'll  draw  my  three  golden  balls  from  my  pouch 
—  like  this  —  and  then  begin. 
[  The  Boy  is  watching  breathlessly  and  the  But 
terfly  is  interested  too.  Their  disappointment 
is  keen  when  Jack  does  nothing. 
BOY 

Aren't  you  going  to  show  me  ? 

MIME 

No,  I  must  be  off. 

BOY 

Aren't  you  ever  coming  back? 

MIME 

Maybe,  yes;  perhaps,  no. 

BOY 

I'll  give  you  some  lentils  if  you'll  juggle  the 
balls  for  me. 
MIME  (sniffs  the  pot) 
They  aren't  cooked  yet. 

BOY 

Let  me  hold  your  golden  balls. 
MIME      ( Takes  a  gold  ball  from  his  pouch  and 
lets  the  Boy  hold  it) 
Here's  one. 

BOY 

And  do  they  pay  you  well  ? 
MIME  (taking  the  ball  from  the  Boy) 

Ay,  that  they  do.     If  I  am  as  interesting  as  the 

99 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


beheading  I'll  get  perhaps  fifteen  farthings  in 
money  and  other  things  that  I  can  exchange  for 
food  and  raiment. 

BOY 

I'm  going  to  be  a  mime  and  buy  a  castle  and  a 
sword. 

MIME 

Maybe  so  and  maybe  not.     Who  knows?  .  .  . 
Good-bye.      (He  goes  out) 
BOY  (to  the  Butterfly) 

If  he  had  been  the  Dreadful  Headsman  I  would 
have  slain  him.  So!  ...  "  Ah,  wicked  heads 
man,  you  shall  not  behead  the  Queen!  .  .  . 
Cross  not  that  threshold  or  I'll  run  you 
through." 

[  Throughout  this  the  Butterfly  shows  great  In 
terest  and  enters  into   the  spirit  of  it,   being 
absorbed  at  times  and  frightened  at  others. 
Enter  the  Milkmaid  at  door. 

MILKMAID 

Pst!  .  .  .  Pst! 
BOY  (startled) 
Oh! 

MILKMAID 

Are  you  going  to  the  decapitation? 

BOY 

No.     Are  you? 

MILKMAID 

That  I  am. 

BOY 

Will  your  rriother  let  you  go  ? 


MILKMAID 

She  doesn't 


know. 

100 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 


BOY  / 

Did  you  run  away  ? 

MILKMAID  / 

,    No.     I  /went  out  to  milk  the  cow. 

!BOY 

And  diffl  you  do  it? 

MILKMAID 

,    Yes.    I 

BOY 

Why  flidn't  you  wait  until  you  came  back? 

MILKMAID 


My 


lother  was  looking  and  I  had  to  let  her 


see  nie  doing  something. 
BOY 
How 
pails 

MILKM 


did  you  get  away  when  you  took  the  milk 
nto  the  house? 


ID 

I  die  n't  take  them  in.     As  soon  as  my  mother 
turned  her  back  I  hid  the  pails  and  I  ran  through 
.    here  ito  take  a  short  cut. 

BOY 

Where  did  you  hide  the  milk? 
MILKMAID 

In  thje  hollow  tree. 

BOY        I 

Won't  it  sour? 

MILKMAJID 

Maybe. 

BOY 

Won't  your  mother  scold  you? 

MILKMAID 

Yes,  of  course,  but  I  couldn't  miss  the  beheading. 

BOY 

Will  you  take  the  squr^milk  home? 
101 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


MILKMAID 

Yes,. and  after  my  mother  scolds  me  I'll  make 
it  into  nice  cfreese  and  sell  it  to  the  King's  Cook 
and  then  mother  will  forgive  me. 
.    BOY  (sniffing  ihe  pot) 

You'd  better  hurry.  It's  nearly  mid-day. 
Don't  you  smell  the  lentils? 

MILKMAID 

The  headsman  hasn't  started  yet 
BOY  (giggling) 

He'd  better  hurry. 

MILKMAID 

They  can't  find  the  Queen. 
BOY  (so  innocently) 
Did  she  escape  ? 

MILKMAID 

Yes. 
&OY 

Are  they  hunting  for  her? 

MILKMAID 

Yes^x  and  they've  offered  a  big  reward  to  the 
person  who  finds  her. 

vBOY 

How  much? 

MILKMAID 

A  pail  of  gold  and  a  pair  of  finger  rings. 

BOY 

That's  a  good  deal  .  .  .  with  a  pail  of  gold  I 
could  buy  my  mother  a  velvet  dress  and  a  silken 
kerchief  and  a  bonnet  made  of  cloth  of  gold- 
End  I  could  buy  myself  a  milk-white  paffry* 

MILKMAID 

\    And  you'd  never  have  to  work  again.  > 

IO2  ) 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

BOY 

But  she's  such  a  gentle  queen.     Where  are  they 
hunting  her  ? 

MILKMAID 

Everywhere. 
BOY 

Everywhere!).  .  .  Maybe  she's  waiting  at  the 
"-4-  beheading  block. 

MILKMAID 

Silly  goose!     She  wouldn't  try  to  escape  this 
way.     She'd  go  in  the  opposite  direction. 

,  BOY 

A^  Do  people  always  run  in  the  opposite  direction? 

MILKMAID 

Of  course,  everybody  knows  that 

BOY 

I  wish  I  could  go. 

MILKMAID 

/     Come  on. 
XBOY 
^  Um  —  uh.     The  lentils  might  burn. 

MILKMAID 

Pour  some  cold  water  on  therri^ 
BOY 

Um  —  uh.     I  promised  I  wouldn't  leave  the 
house. 

MILKMAID 

Oh,  it  will  be  wonderful ! 

BOY 

The  Mime  will  be  there. 

MILKMAID 

The  one  with  the  long  cloak  and  the  golden 
balls? 

103 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


BOY 

Um  —  uh. 

MILKMAID 

Ooh! 

BOY 

How  did  you  know?\ 

MILKMAID 

I  saw  him  on  the  way  to  the  market  one  day  — 
and  when  my  mother  wasn't  looking  at  me  I 
gave  him  a  farthing. 
'  BOY 


\ 
Is  he  a  good  juggle^? 


MILKMAID 

\    He's  magic !     Why,  he  can  throw  three  golden 

•  \   balls  in  the  air  and  catch  them  with  one  hand 

and  then  keep  them  floating  in  the  air  in  a  circle. 

BOY 

And  can  he  balance  a  weathervane  on  his  nose 
while  it's  turning? 

MILKMAID 

\      Yes,  and  he  can  balance  an  egg  on  the  end  of  a 
'     long  stick  that  is  balanced  on  his  chin ! 
BOY 

Oh  —  I  wish  I  could  see  him.      (Looks  at  the 

pot  to  see  if  the  lentils  are  done) 

MILKMAID 

Come  on! 

BOY 

Well  —  (Begins  to  weaken  and  just  as  he  is 
about  to  start,  the  Butterfly  flits  past  him  into 
the  Queen's  room) 

,  MILKMAID        v 

Oh  —  whatVlovely  butterfly  I] 

104 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

BOY 

No  —  No  —  I  can't  go.  But  you  had  better 
hurry. 

MILKMAID 

V  Well,^ll  ti>£o  catch  the-butferfly^first. 
BOY 

Oh,  no,  you  mustn't  touch  that  butterfly. 
MTDCMAID 

Why? 

BOY 

Because  —  because  he's  my  friend. 

MILKMAID 

Silly! 

BOY 

He  is  a  good  friend  and  he's  the  wisest  butterfly 
in  the  world. 

MILKMAID 

What  can  he  do? 
BOY 

He  can  almost  talk. 

MILKMAID 

Almost?  .  .  .  Oh,  I  know.  I'm  a  goose.  You 
want  to  play  a  trick  on  me  so  I'll  miss  the 
beheading. 

BOY  . 

You'd  better  hurry/ 

-  ~ 


-~ 

I  wish  you'd  come. 
BOY  (sadly) 

I  can't.     I've  a  duty  to  perform. 

MILKMAID 

Aren't  duties  always  hard?      (Both  sigh) 
[She  takes  up  her  milk  pail. 
105 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


BOY 

What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that  pail? 

MILKMAID 

I'm  going  to  stand  on  it.  .  .  .  Good-bye.  (She 
goes  out) 

BOY 

Good-bye.  (He  watches  for  a  moment^  then 
goes  to  the  pot  and  tries  the  lentils;  then  whis 
pers  through  door  to  the  Queen)  The  lentils 
are  getting  soft. 

[There  is  a  fumbling  in  the  passage  and  a  'voice 
is  heard,  Help  the  blind.     Help  the  blind. 
The  Butterfly  returns  to  the  top  of  the  cupboard. 
The  Blindman  appears  at  the  door. 

PROLOGUE 

He's  blind,  but  hell  show  you  how  the  blind 
can  see." 

BLINDMAN  (sniffing) 
Cooking  lentils? 

BOY 

Yes. 

BLINDMAN 

Cook,  which  way  to  the  beheading? 

BOY 

Keep  straight  ahead  —  the  way  you  are  going, 
old  man. 

BLINDMAN 

Don't  you  want  to  take  me  with  you? 
BOY 
i          Fnrnot  going. 

BLINDMAN  » 


Not  going  to  the  beheading? 
BOY  t  \ 

\  No,  I  have  to  cook  the  lentils.) 


106 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

BLINDMAN 

Come  on  and  go  with  me  and  mayfie  I'll  give 
you  a  farthing. 
BOY 
I  can't. 

BLINDMAN 

Yes,  you  can.^Who  else  is  here? 
BOY  (swallowing:  it's  hard  to  fib) 
No  one. 

BLINDMAN 

Can't  you  run  away  ?     Your  mother  won't  know 
you've  gone) 

BOY 

It's  my  duty  to  stay  here. 

BLINDMAN 

It's  your  duty  to  help  a  poor,  blindman,  little 
boy. 

BOY 

Are  you  stone  blind  ? 

BLINDMAN 

Yes. 

BOY 

Then  how  did  you  know  I  was  a  little  boy? 

BLINDMAN 

Because  you  sound  like  a  little  boy. 
BOY 

Well,  if  you're  stone  blind  why  do  you  want  to 
go  to  the  beheading? 

BLINDMAN 

I  can  see  with  my  ears. 

BOY 

Aw  — 

BLINDMAN 

Didn't  I  know  you  were  a  little  boy? 
107 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


BOY 

Yes,  but  you  had  to  guess  twice.  First  you 
thought  I  was  a  cook. 

BLINDMAN 

Well,  aren't  you  cooking  lentils? 

BOY 

Yes;  but  you  can  smell  them. 

BLINDMAN 

Well,  I  see  with  my  nose,  too. 

BOY 

Aw  —  how  can  you  see  with  your  nose? 

BLINDMAN 

If  you  give  me  some  bread  I'll  show  you. 

BOY 

I  can't  give  you  any  bread,  but  I'll  give  you  some 
raw  lentils. 

BLINDMAN 

All  right.     Give  me  lentils. 
BOY 

.  .  .  I'll  put  them  by  the  pot  —  Ready. 

BLINDMAN 

All  right.  (Sniffs.  Walks  to  the  pot  and  gets 
lentils  and  puts  them  in  an  old  pouch)  Isn't 
that  seeing  with  my  nose? 

BOY 

H'm!  (In  wonder)  Now  see  with  your  ears 
and  I'll  give  you  some  more  lentils. 

BLINDMAN 

All  right.     Speak. 

[  The  Boy  gets  behind  the  stool  and  speaks. 
The   Blindman   goes    toward   him.     The  Boy 
moves  around  stealthily. 

BLINDMAN 

You're  cheating.     YouVe  moved. 
108 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 


BOY  (jumping  up  on  the  bench) 
Well,  where  am  I? 

BLINDMAN 

You're  standing  on  something. 

BOY 

How  did  you  guess  it? 

BLINDMAN 

I  didn't  guess  it.    I  know  it. 

~ 


Why  can't  I  do  that? 

BLINDMAN 

You  can  if  you  try;  but  it  takes  practice. 


Can  you  see  the  door  now? 

BLINDMAN 

No.     I've  turned  around  too  manv  times.     Be 
sides  there  is  more  than  one  door,  j 
BOY 

Oh  —  m-m  .  .  .  You  aren't  really  blind  ! 

BLINDMAN 

Blind   people    learn   to    use   what   they   have.      r" 
Once  I  too  could  see  with  my  eyes. 

BOY 

-   Just  like  me? 

BLINDMAN 

Yes.  J  And  then  I  didn't  take  the  trouble  to  see 
with  my  ears  and  my  nose  and  my  fingers  — 
after  I  became  blind  I  had  to  learn  .  .  .  Why,  I 
can  tell  whether  a  man  who  passes  me  at  the 
palace  gate  is  a  poor  man  or  a  noble  or  a 
merchant^ 

BOY 

How  can  you  do  that  ? 
109 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


BLINDMAN 

By  the  sound  of  the  step. 
BOY 

Aw  —  how  can  you  do  that? 

BLINDMAN 

Shut  your  eyes  and  try  it. 
BOY 

Well,  I  know  what  you  are.     That  would  be 
easy. 

BLINDMAN 

I'll  pretend  I'm  somebody  else.      (Feels  with  his 
stick;  touches  bench.     Feels  around  again) 

BOY 

Why  are  you  doing  that  ? 

BLINDMAN 

To  see  how  far  I  can  walk  without  bumping  into 
^  something. 

BOY 


BLINDMAN 

Ready. 

(hides  face  in  hands) 


BLINDMAN 

Don't  peep.      (  The  Boy  tries  hard  not  to) 
BOY 

I  won't. 

BLINDMAN 

All  ready  (shuffles  like  a  commoner)  .    Who  was 
it? 

BOY 

A  poor  man. 

BLINDMAN 

See  how  easy? 

no 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

BOY 

I  could  see  him  as  plain  as  if  I  had  my  eyes  open 
.  .  .  Now  try  me  again. 

BLINDMAN 

Ready. 
BOY 

All  right.     (The  Blindman  seems  to  grow  in 
height.     His  face  is  filled  with  a  rare  brightness. 
He  steadies  himself  a  moment  and  then  walks 
magnificently  down  the  room) 
BOY  (in  beautiful  wonder) 
A  noble !     I  could  see  him. 

BLINDMAN  x 

All  you  have  to  do  is  try! 

BOY 

I  always  thought  it  was  terrible  to  be  blind. 

BLINDMAN 

Sometimes  it  is.  * 

BOY  \ 

But  I  thought  everything  was  blackj 

BLINDMAN 

It  used  to  be  until  I  taught  myself  how  to  sec. 

BOY 

Why  is  it  terrible  sometimes  ? 

BLINDMAN 

Because  I  cannot  help  the  poor  who  need  help. 
If  I  had  money  I  could  feed  the  hungry  and 
clothe  the  poor  little  beggar  children  in  win 
ter! 

BOY 

Would  a  pail  of  gold  and  a  pair  of  finger  rings 
help  you  feed  the  hungry  and  clothe  the  poor, 
little  beggar  children  in  winter? 
in 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


BLINDMAN 

A  pail  of  gold!     I  have  dreamed  of  what  I 
might  do  with  so  much  wealth ! 
BOY 

I  can  get  a  pail  of  gold  if  I  break  a  promise. 

BLINDMAN 

Would  you  break  a  promise? 
BOY 

.  .  .  No  —  but  —  No! 

BLINDMAN 

Of  course  you  wouldn't. 
BOY 

I  couldn't  break  a  promise  for  two  pails  of  gold. 

BLINDMAN 

Nor  twenty-two,  little  boy. 
BOY 

When  you  walked  like  a  noble  I  saw  a  beautiful 
man  behind  my  eyes  with  a  crown  of  gold.- 

BLINDMAN 

If  you  broke  a  promise  for  a  pail  of  gold  and 
two  finger  rings  you  would  never  see  a  beautiful 
noble  with  a  crown  of  gold  when  you  closed  your 
eyes  .  .  . 

BOY 

\    Can  blind  men  see  beautiful  things  even  when  it's 
rainy?  i 

BLINDMAN 

Blindmen  can  always  see  beautiful  things  if  they 
try.  Clouds  and  rain  are  beautiful  to  me  —  and 
when  I  get  wet  I  think  of  the  sunshine.  I  saw 
sunshine  with  my  eyes  when  I  was  a  little  boy. 
Now  I  see  it  with  my  whole  body  when  it  warms 
me.  I  saw  rain  with  my  eyes  when  I  was  a  little 
boy.  Now  I  see  it  with  my  hands  when  it  falls 
112 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

on  them  —  drop  —  drop  —  drop  —  dropity  — 
dropity  —  and  I  love  it  because  it  makes  the 
lentils  grow. 

BOY 

V    I  never  thought  of  that.     Rain  makes  me  stay 
indoors  and  I  never  like  it  except  in  June. 

BLINDMAN 

You  don't  have  to  stay  in  for  long. 

BOY 

Can  blind  men  see  beautiful  things  in  a  be 
heading? 

BLINDMAN 

No.     But  I  must  be  there  with  the  crowd.    ^- 
shall  tell  stories  to  the  people  and  perhaps  they      ) 
will  give  me  food  or  money. 

BOY 

Can't  you  stay  and  tell  me  stories?       >^ 

BLINDMAN  L^^ 

No,     I  must  be  on  my  way  .  .  .  if  I  do  not  see 
the  beheading  I  cannot  tell  about  it  when  I  meet 
someone  who  was  not  there.     Oh,  I  shall  make 
a  thrilling  tale  of  it. 
BOY 

Tell  it  to  me  when  you  come  back. 

BLINDMAN 

If  you  give  me  some  cooked  lentils. 
BOY 

I'll  save  you  some. 

BLINDMAN 

Are  the  lentils  nearly  done? 
BOY     x 
Halfj 

BLINDMAN 

I   must  be   on  my  way  then  .  .  „  Good-bye, 
"3 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


(Starting  to  go  in  the  wrong  direction) 
BOY 

Here's  the  door. 

BLINDMAN 

Thank  you,  little  boy  .  .  .  Don't  forget  to  see 
with  your  ears  and  nose  and  fingers. 
[The  Blindman  goes  out. 

BOY 

I  won't. 

BLINDMAN 

Good-bye. 

BOY 

Good-bye.      ( The  Boy  covers  his  eyes  and  tries 

to  see  with  his  ears  and  his  nose)     It's  easier 

with  the  ears. 

[Singing  is  heard. 

Enter  the  Ballad-Singer. 

Hello! 

BOY 

Hello ! 

SINGER 

How  are  you? 
BOY 

I'm  very  well. 

SINGER 

That's  good. 
BOY 

Thank  you. 

SINGER 

Cooking? 

BOY 

Yes. 

SINGER  (coming  into  the  room) 
Something  good  ? 

114 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

BOY      ' 

Lentils. 

SINGER 

Give  me  some? 
BOY 

They  aren't  done. 
SINGER 

Nearly.     I  can  smell  them. 

BOY 

Do  you  like  them  ? 
SINGER 

When  I'm  hungry.    V 
BOY 

Are  you  hungry  now  ? 

SINGER 

I'm  always  hungry.      ( They  laugh) 

BOY 

Were  you  singing? 
SINGER 

Yes. 

BOY 

Do  you  like  to  sing? 

SINGER 

When  I  get  something  for  my  ballads. 
BOY 

Are  you  a  ballad-singer? 

SINGER 

Yes. 

BOY 

Sing  one  for  me? 
SINGER 

Give  me  some  lentils  ? 
BOY 

I'll  give  you  some  raw  lentils. 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


SINGER 

I  want  some  of  the  cooked  ones. 
BOY 

They  aren't  done. 
SINGER 

Are  they  nearly  done? 

BOY 

More  than  half. 
SINGER 

I  like  them  that  way. 
BOY 

All  right.     Sing  me  a  ballad. 
SINGER 

Well,  give  me  the  lentils  first. 
BOY 

Oh,  no,  sing  the  ballad  first. 

SINGER 

No,  sir,  give  me  the  lentils  first. 

BOY 

That  isn't  fair. 

SINGER 

Why  not  ?     After  I  sing  to  you  maybe  you  won't 
pay  me. 
BOY 

Yes,  I  will. 

SINGER 

Then  why  not  pay  me  first? 

BOY 

You  might  not  sing. 
SINGER  (laughing) 

Yes,  I  will. 
BOY  (laughing) 

Well,  I'll  give  you  some  lentils  at  the  end  of 

each  verse. 

116 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

SINGER 

That's  a  bargain. 
BOY 

Sing. 
SINGER  (sings  one  line) 

Six  stalwart  sons  the  miller  had  — 

Give  me  the  lentils. 
BOY 

Finish  that  verse. 
SINGER 

I  did  finish  it. 
BOY 

Now  that's  not  fair.     You  only  sang  a  line. 
SINGER 

Well,  a  line's  a  verse. 
BOY  (with  a  gesture  that  indicates  how  long  a  verse 

ought  to  be) 

I  meant  a  whole  verse. 
SINGER  ( mimicking  the  gesture) 

A  line's  a  whole  verse. 

BOY 

Oh,   now,   be    fair,    I   mean   a   whole,   whole 
verse. 

SINGER 

You  mean  a  stanza. 
BOY 

I  always  heard  it  called  a  verse. 
SINGER 

Well,  keep  the  bargain.     I  sang  a  verse.     Give 

me  some  lentils. 
BOY  (rising  and  taking  a  'very  few  lentils  on  his 

spoon) 

Next  time  I  mean  a  stanza  .  .  .  Here  are  some 

lentils. 

117 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


[  The  Ballad-Singer  eyes  the  meager  portion, 
cools  it  and  eats. 

SINGER 

Stingy. 
BOY 

Isn't  that  some  lentils? 
SINGER  (laughs) 

Well—  ' 
BOY 

Now  begin  again. 

SINGER 

At  the  end  of  every  stanza  a  spoonful  of  lentils. 
BOY 

I  didn't  say  a  spoonful. 
SINGER  (starts  to  go) 

Very  well,  I  won't  sing  a  ballad. 
BOY 

All  right     I'll  give  you  a  spoonful  at  the  end 

of  each  —  stanza.      (He  sits  on  the  floor  by  the 

pot  of  lentils) 
SINGER  (sings) 

The  Ballad  of  the  Miller  and  His  Six  Sons 

Six  stalwart  sons  the  miller  had 

All  brave  and  fair  to  see  — 

He  taught  them  each  a  worthy  trade  — 

And  they  grew  gallantly. 

Tara  —  da  —  da  —  da-da-da  —  da-da-da 

Tara  —  da  —  da  —  da-de  —  da-dee. 

Give  me  some  lentils. 

BOY 

Here  .  .  .  Hurry  up. 


SINGER  (sings) 

The  first  was  John  of  the  dimpled  chin 
118 


o 
OQ 


ri    -S 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

And  a  fist  of  iron  had  he  — 

He  learned  to  wield  the  broadsword  well 

And  turned  to  soldiery. 

Tara  —  da  —  da,  etc. 

BOY 

Please!     Please  don't  stop. 
SINGER 

Keep  to  the  bargain. 

BOY 

Here,  taks  two  spoonfuls  and  finish  wit-hoot 
stopping. 

SINGER  (sings  rest  of  ballad) 

The  second  son  was  christened  Hugh 

And  curly  locks  had  he  — 

He  learned  to  use  the  tabor  and  lute 

And  turned  to  minstrelsy. 

Tara  —  da  —  da,  etc. 

The  third  was  James  of  the  gentle  ways 
And  speech  of  gold  had  he  — 
He  learned  his  psalms  and  learned  his  creed 
And  turned  to  simony.  ;.  ,y 

Tara  —  da  —  da,  etc. 

The  fourth  was  Dick  of  the  hazel  eye, 

And  a  steady  hand  had  he  — 

With  a  hammer  and  saw  and  a  chest  of  tools 

He  turned  to  carpentry. 

Tara  —  da  —  da,  etc. 

The  fifth  was  Ned  of  the  velvet  tread 

And  feather  fingers  had  he. 

He  used  his  gifts  in  a  naughty  way 

And  turned  to  burglary. 

Tara  —  da  —  da,  etc. 

119 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


The  sixth  was  Robin,  surnamed  the  Rare, 

For  always  young  was  he  — 

He  learned  the  joy  of  this  sunny  world 

And  turned  to  poetry. 

Tara  —  da  —  da,  etc. 

The  Miller  approached  three  score  and  ten 

A  happy  man  was  he 

His  five  good  sons  and  the  one  who  was  bad, 

All  turned  to  gallantry. 

Tara  —  da  —  da,  etc. 

\-""^"r>  n  u,  «MUJ_^_ 

bmg  me  anotheij. 
SIHGER 

A  spoonful  at  the  end  of  every  stanza. 

BOY 

Don't  stop  after  you  begfn. 

SINGER 

Pay  me  in  advance. 
BOY 

I  suppose  I'll  have  to.      (He  fueds  the  Baltnd- 


SINGER  (sings  second  ballad) 

The  Ballad  of  the  Three  Little  Pigs 

Two  little  pigs  were  pink  —  pink  —  pink  — 
And  one  little  pig  was  black  —  black  — 
The  three  little  pigs  were  very  good  friends, 
But  one  little  pig  was  black  —  black. 

Three  little  pigs  would  play  —  play  —  play  — 
But  one  little  pig  was  black  —  black  — 
And  three  little  pigs  would  have  a  jolly  time 
Though  one  little  pig  was  black  —  black. 

I2O 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

Three  little  pigs  soon  grew  —  grew  —  grew  — — 
And  one  little  pig  was  black  —  black. 
The  three  little  pigs  became  fat  hogs  — 
And  one  fat  hog  was  black  —  black. 

The  two  fat  hogs  were  pink  —  pink  —  pink  — 
And  one  fat  hog  was  black  —  black. 
The  three  fat  hogs  all  made  good  ham,    / 
Though  one  fat  hog  was  black  —  black./ 

BOY 

Sing  me  another. 
SINGER 

I  can't.     I'm  tired. 
BOY 

Are  you  going  to  sing  those  at  the  beheading? 
SINGER 

What  beheading? 

BOY 

At  the  Queen's  beheading. 
SINGER 
Where? 

BOY 

Over  there. 
SINGER 
When? 

BOY 

To-day. 

SINGER 

I  must  be  going.     Certainly  I'll  sing  there  and 
I'll  take  up  a  collection. 
BOY 

It's  going  to  be  before  the  King's  four  clocks 
strike  twelve. 

121 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


SINGER 

It's  nearly  time  now.     If  I  can  collect  a  piece 

of  gold  I  can  buy  a  vermillion  robe  and  sing  at 

the  King's  court. 
BOY 

I  could  collect  a  pail  of  gold  and  two  finger 

rings  and  sit  at  the  feet  of  the  King  if  I'd  break 

a  promise. 
('SINGER 

V     Perhaps  you  willJ 
BOY  / 

Would  you? 

SINGER 

I'd  rather  sing  along  the  highway  all  my  life. 
It  is  better  to  dream  of  a  vermillion  robe  than 
,     to  have  one  that  is  not  honestly  got. 

/BOY 

\     The  Blindman  said  something  like  Wat. 

SINGER 

Who  said  what?^( 

BOY  -'"    *•'  •  i 

The  Blindman  said  if  I  broke  a  promise  I'd 
never  again  see  a  beautiful  noble  with  a  golden 
crown  when  I  closed  my  eyes. 
SINGER 

He  was  right. 

BOY 

When  you  get  your  vermillion  robe  will  you 
let  me  see  it? 
SINGER 

That  I  will  .  .  .  Good-bye. 

BOY 

Good-bye.      (Singer  goes  out) 
122 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

BOY  (hums  a  snatch  of  the  ballads) 

[The  Headsman  steps  into  the  door  and  plants 
his  axe  beside  him  for  an  impressive  picture. 
The  Boy  turns  and  starts  in  terror. 

HEADSMAN 

Have  you  seen  the  Queen? 

BOY 

Sir? 

HEADSMAN 

Have  you  seen  the  Queen? 

BOY 

How  should  I,  sir  ?  I've  been  cooking  the  len 
tils. 

HEADSMAN 

She  is  here! 

BOY 

How  —  could  —  she  —  be  —  here,  sir  ? 

HEADSMAN 

Well,  if  she  isn't  here,  where  is  she? 
BOY  (relieved) 

I  don't  know  where  she  is  if  she  isn't  here,  sir. 

HEADSMAN 

She  has  too  much  sense  to  hide  so  near  the 
castle  and  on  the  short  cut  to  the  headsman's 
block  .  .  .  Do  you  know  who  I  am? 

BOY 

I  think  so  —  sir. 

HEADSMAN 

Think?     Don't  you  know? 

BOY 

Yes,  sir. 

HEADSMAN 

Who  am  I  then? 

123 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


fi 


BOY 

You're  the  Dreadful  Headsman. 

HEADSMAN 

I  am  the  winder  of  the  king's  four  clocks  and 
when  I  am  needed  I  am  the  best  headsman  in 
three  kingdoms.     And  Ms  is  my  axe. 
BOY 

Is  it  sharp? 

HEADSMAN 

It  will  split  a  hare  in  two.      (Runs  finger  near 
blade  meaningly} 
BOY  1  , 
OM 

HEAE^MAN 

A  hare  in  twoj 

BOY      H 

Would  you  really  cut  off  the  Queen's  head? 

HEADSMAN 

That's  my  business:  to  cut  off  heads  and  the 
nobler  the  head  the  better  my  business. 

BOY 

She's  such  a  nice  queen. 

HEADSMAN 

Have  you  seen  her? 

BOY 

Y  —  es,  sir. 

HEADSMAN 

When? 

BOY 

One  da,y  —  when  I  was  boiling  some  lentils. 
HEADSMAN 

Did  you  see  her  neck? 
BOY          I 

Yes,  sir. 

124 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

HEADSMAN 

Not  much  bigger  than  a  hair. 

BOY  (desperately  friendly) 
Have  you  seen  my  knife? 

HEADSMAK  (sharply) 

I'm  talking  about  the  Queen  and  I'm  going  to 
talk  about  myself  until  I  hear  the  King's  trum 
peter  calling  me  to  the  beheading. 

BOY 

Yes,  sjr.  (Edging  between  the  bench  and  door 
of  the\  room  where  the  Queen  is  hidden) 

HEADSMAN 

Sit  down. 

BOY 

I'  rather  stand,  sir. 

HEADSMAN 

Sit  down!     And  I'll  tell  you  how  I'm  going  to 
behead  the  Queen. 
BOY 

You  can't  behead  her  after  the  King's  four 
clocks  have  struck  twelve. 

HEADSMAN 

How  did  you  know  that? 
BOY  (realizing  his  blunder) 
Well  — 

HEADSMAN 

Nobody  knows  that  except  the  royal  family  and 
people  of  the  court. 
BOY 

A  little  —  bird  told  —  me. 

HEADSMAN 

Where  is  the  little  bird  that  I  may  cut  its  head 
off? 

125 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


BOY 

Don't  hurt  the  little  bird,  but  tell  me  how  you 
are  going  to  behead  the  Queen. 

HEADSMAN 

Well—     (At  the  stool)     This  is  the  block. 
There's  the  Queen  behind  the  iron  gate.     We'll 
say  that  door  is  the  gate. 
[The  Boy  starts. 

And  out  there  is  the  crowd.  Now,  I  appear 
like  this  and  walk  up  the  steps.  The  crowd 
cheers,  so  I  bow  and  show  myself  and  my  axe. 
Then  I  walk  over  to  the  gate  — 

BOY 

Don't  go  in  there.  That's  my  mother's  room 
and  you  might  frighten  her. 

HEADSMAN 

Who's  in  your  mother's  room? 
BOY 
She  is. 

HEADSMAN 

Well,  if  she's  in  there,  maybe  she'd  like  to  hear 
my  story. 
BOY 

She's  in  bed. 

HEADSMAN 

Sick?  (The  Boy  nods  vigorously)  All  right 
.  .  .  Well,  I've  bowed  to  the  crowd  and  I  start 
for  the  Queen. —  If  you  won't  open  the  door, 
you  pretend  you're  the  Queen. 

BOY 

I  don't  want  to  be  the  Queen. 

HEADSMAN 

Come  on  and  pretend.     I  walk  up  to  the  gate  — 
so,  and  open  it  and  then  I  say  "  Your  Majesty, 
126 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

I'm  going  to  cut  off  your  head  "  and  she  bows 
—  bow —  (The  Boy  bows)  And  then  I  say 
"  Are  you  ready?  "  and  she  says,  "  I  am  ready." 
Then  I  blindfold  her  — 

BOY 

Now,  don't  blindfold  me,  sirl 

HEADSMAN 

I'm  showing  you  how  it's  done. 

BOY 

But  if  you  blindfold  me  I  can't  see  when  you 
do  it. 
HEADSMAN  (admitting  the  point) 

All  right  .  .  .  Then  I  blindfold  her  and  I  lead 
her  to  the  block  and  I  say,  "  Have  you  made 
your  peace  with  Heaven?"  and  she  says, 
uYes."  .  .  . 

BOY 

If  you  won't  tell  me  any  more  I'll  give  you  my 
knife. 

HEADSMAN 

Aren't  you  interested? 

BOY 

Yes,  but  your  axe  is  so  sharp  and  it  might  slip. 

HEADSMAN 

Sharp?  It  will  cut  a  hair  in  two,  but  I  know 
how  to  handle  it  ...  Come  on  ...  (The 
Boy  reluctantly  falls  into  the  picture  again) 
And  then  .  .  .(Raising  his  axe)  And  *hen 
.  .  .  (Headsman  sees  the  Butterfly)  And 
then  .  .  .  How-d'-ye-do  ?  Butterfly. 
[The  Boy  runs  to  the  pot  unnoticed  by  the 
Headsman. 
BOY 

Lentils,  lentils,  boil  the  time  away 
127 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


That  my  good  queen  may  live  to-day. 
\  [The  Headsman  and  the  Butterfly  are  having 
quite  a  game. 

Suddenly  the  great  clock  begins  to  strike  and 
the  two  next  larger  follow  slowly. 
The  Headsman  rushes  to  the  back  door  with 
his  axe. 

HEADSMAN 

Why  doesn't  the  trumpeter  blow  his  call! 
[The  Boy  counts  the  strokes  of  the  clock  and 
as  the  third  clock  strikes  twelve  he  rushes  to 
the  door  of  the  bedroom. 

BOY 

Queen!     Queen!     It's  mid-day. 

HEADSMAN 

Queen  —  Queen —  (He  strides  to  the  bed 
room  and  drags  the  Queen  out)  The  little 
clock  hasn't  struck  yet!  (He  pulls  the  Queen 
toward  the  rear  door  and  shouts)  Here! 
Here!  don't  let  the  little  clock  strike!  I've 
won  the  pail  of  gold ! 

[The  Boy  has  set  the  bench  in  the  doorway  so 
that  the  Headsman  stumbles.  The  Butterfly 
keeps  flying  against  the  Headsman's  nose,  which 
makes  him  sneeze. 

BOY 

No  one  heard  you! 

QUEEN 

Let  me  go !     Let  me  go ! 

HEADSMAN  (sneezing  as  only  a  headsman  can) 
The  Queen!     The  Queen! 
[The  little  clock  begins  to  strike. 
The  Boy  counts  eagerly,  one,  two,  three,  etc. 
128 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

Between  strokes   the  Headsman  sneezes  and 

shouts. 

The  Queen!     The  Queen! 

[At  the  fifth  stroke  the  Headsman  falls  on  his 

knees.     The  Queen  becomes  regal,  her  foot  on 

his  neck. 

The  Boy  kneels  at  her  side. 

QUEEN 

Base  villain !  According  to  the  law  I  am  saved ! 
But  you  are  doomed.  As  Winder  of  the  King's 
four  clocks  the  law  commands  that  you  be  de 
capitated  because  the  four  clocks  did  not  strike 
together.  Do  you  know  that  law? 

HEADSMAN 

Oh,  Lady,  I  do,  but  I  did  but  do  my  duty.  I 
was  sharpening  my  axe  this  morning  and  I 
couldn't  wind  the  clocks.  Intercede  for  me. 

QUEEN 

It  is  useless. 

BOY 

Is  there  any  other  headsman? 
QUEEN 

The  law  says  the  Chief  Headsman  must  behead 

the  chief  winder  of  the  King's  four  clocks. 
BOY 

Can  the  Dreadful  Headsman  behead  himself? 

QUEEN 

Aye,  there's  the  difficulty. 

HEADSMAN 

Oh,  your  Majesty,  pardon  me! 

BOY 

Yes,  pardon  him. 

129 


PORTMANTEAU  PLAYS 


QUEEN 

On  one  condition :  He  is  to  give  his  axe  to  the 
museum  and  devote  all  his  old  age  to  the  care 
of  the  King's  four  clocks.  .  .  .  For  myself,  I 
shall  pass  a  law  requiring  the  ladies  of  the  court 
to  wear  no  jewels.  So,  if  the  King's  aunt  can 
wear  no  rings,  she  assuredly  cannot  have  a 
ring-toe,  and  hereafter  I  may  step  where  I 
please.  ...  Sir  Headsman,  lead  the  way.  .  .  . 
And  now,  my  little  boy,  to  you  I  grant  every 
Friday  afternoon  an  hour's  sport  with  the 
Mime,  a  spotted  cow  for  the  little  Milkmaid,  a 
cushion  and  a  canopy  at  the  palace  gate  for  the 
Blindman,  a  vermillion  cloak  for  the  Ballad- 
Singer,  a  velvet  gown,  a  silken  kerchief  and  a 
cloth-of-gold  bonnet  fojr.  your  mother,  and  for 
yourself  a  milk-white  palfry,  two  pails  of  gold, 
two  finger  rings,  a  castle  and  a  sword.  .  .  . 
Arise,  Sir  Little  Boy.  .  .  .  Your  arm. 

BOY 

May  I  take  my  knife,  your  Majesty? 

QUEEN 

That  you  may.  (He  gets  the  knife  and  returns 
to  her.  She  lays  her  hand  on  his  arm)  Sir 
Headsman,  announce  our  coming. 

HEADSMAN 

Make   way  —  make   way  —  for   her   Majesty 
the  Queen. 
QUEEN   (correcting) 
And  Sir  Little  Boy. 

HEADSMAN 

What's  his  other  name,  your  Majesty? 
BOY  (whispering  with  the  wonder  of  it  all) 
Davie, 

130 


WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

QUEEN  (to  the  Headsman) 
Davie. 

HEADSMAN 

Make  way  —  make  way  for  her  Majesty  the 
Queen  and  Sir  Davie  Little  Boy. 
[They  go  out. 

Immediately  the  Boy  returns  and  gets  the  pot 
of  lentils  and  runs  after  the  Queen  as 
The  Curtains  Close. 


The  Portmanteau  Theatre  Boxed  to  Leave 


APPENDIX 


THE  REPERTORY  OF  THE  PORTMAN- 
TEAU  THEATER 

IN   THE   ORDER   OF   PRODUCTION 

THE  TRIMPLET Stuart  Walker 

A  FAN  AND  Two  CANDLE 
STICKS  Mary  MacMlllan 

Six  WHO  PASS  WHILE  THE 

LENTILS  BOIL Stuart  Walker 

THE  SEVEN  GIFTS  (A  PAN 
TOMIME)  , Stuart  Walker 

THE  MOON  LADY  (A  PAN 
TOMIME)  Stuart  Walker 

NEVERTHELESS Stuart  Walker 

GAMMER  GURTON'S  NEDLE  .  William  Stevenson 

THE  LADY  OF  THE  WEEP 
ING  WILLOW  TREE Stuart  Walker 

THE  GOLDEN  DOOM Lord  Dunsany 

VOICES Hortense  Flexner* 

THE  CRIER  BY  NIGHT Gordon  Bottomley 

THE  GODS  OF  THE  MOUN 
TAIN  Lord  Dunsany 

THE  MEDICINE-SHOW  ....  Stuart  Walker 

THE  VERY  NAKED  BOY  .  . .  Stuart  Walker 

THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  IN 
FANTA  (FROM  OSCAR 
WILDE'S  STORY)  Stuart  Walker 

KING  ARGIMENES  AND  THE 
UNKNOWN  WARRIOR  . . .  Lord  Dunsany 


APPENDIX 


CASTS 

At  the  Thirty-ninth  Street  Theater,  and  the  Prin 
cess  Theater,  New  York  City,  During  Novem 
ber  and  December  of  1916. 

PERSONS  BEFORE  THE  PLAYS 

MEMORY  . .. Florence  W  oiler  sen 

THE  PROLOGUE  Lew  Medbury 

THE  DEVICE-BEARER  .....  Edmond  Crenshaw 

THE  TRIMPLET 

THE  LADY  CARATINA  ....  Gitruda  Tristjanski 
THE  LADY  BOBOLARA  ....  Judith  Lowry 
THE  BARON  MILTON-MAU 
RICE , Willard  Webster 

THE   MARQUESS  OF   STRE- 

NATHCO  .  .  . .  Edgar  Stehli 

THE  PERSON  PASSING  BY.  .  McKay  Morris 
You Gregory  Kelly 

NEVERTHELESS 

A  BOY Gregory  Kelly 

A  GIRL ., Nancy  Winston 

A  BURGLAR   . ., McKay  Morris 

Six  WHO  PASS  WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL 

THE  BOY    .  . .  . Gregory  Kelly 

THE  QUEEN    . Judith  Lowry 

THE  MIME Willard  Webster 

THE  MILKMAID Nancy  Winston 

THE  BLINDMAN    ........  Edgar  Stehli 

THE  BALLAD-SINGER Stuart  Walker 

THE  HEADSMAN   . .,. . McKay  Morris 

136 


APPENDIX 


THE  MEDICINE-SHOW 

The  Medicine-Show  was  not  played  in  New  York 
City. 

LUT'ER   Willard  Webster 

Giz Edgar  Stehli 

DR.  STEV'N  VANDEXTER  . . .  Lew  Medbury 


137 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


